


gently

by thelotusflower



Category: South Park
Genre: (my fav type), Aged up characters, Awkward, Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends to Lovers, Denial, Drug Use, Gay Panic, High School, High School AU, Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Slow Burn, Weed, av club craig, awkward! Craig, lots of pining, more tags to come
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-25
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:35:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 31
Words: 117,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26653783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thelotusflower/pseuds/thelotusflower
Summary: Craig’s journey for self acceptance is a long one, but Tweek is patient.
Relationships: Craig Tucker/Tweek Tweak, Stan Marsh/Kenny McCormick, Token Black/Wendy Testaburger
Comments: 845
Kudos: 395
Collections: gently collection





	1. before the storm

**Author's Note:**

> So! Enjoy this very very cliche plot that i can never break away from ~~ but basically ~ i just would like to explore what could happen if the yaoi stuff never happened? Idk. If someone can think of a better summary of this, please help! But basically I always think ~ why did they choose to ship tweek/craig when like KYLE/STAN exist? Like there had to be stuff going on between them????? For them to ship them?? Like bro it is not random, i refuse to believe. But basically whenever I watch SP (before the tweek x craig episode) I literally see them sitting by each other in the assemblies SO much and i feel like craig definitely was the one to reach out to him in the metrosexual one? Anyways idk what made me so obsessed with pre craig x tweek but i have become obsessed slightly and like to imagine things and head canon so please join me in this journey.

He knows he is being broken up with.

It is obvious.

If he was less of an asshole, he would tell her to save the speech, but the thing is, he _is_ an asshole, so he lets her suffer as she tries to gracefully put together the words to let him down, _gently._

“I mean, when was the last time you even tried to kiss me? I feel like you are not into me, and I just… I need someone who is into me, Craig, it’s just what I need in my life right now to truly be happy.”

He nods, but still doesn’t say anything.

“I really hope you understand. It’s truly nothing personal, I just think neither of us are truly happy here, I mean... are you?”

Truly? Not really. It’s part of the reason he really does not care about her breaking up with him.

“Not really.”

“Yeah,” she nods, eyebrows slightly furrowing inward. “So, why fool ourselves — I really do appreciate the time we have had together, Craig, but I truly think it was just supposed to be a short time thing between us,” her smile is shaky, eyes not so sure of themselves. “I’m sorry,” she adds. She pulls her wallet out of her purse that hangs on the arm of the chair. She pulls out a twenty from one of the flaps and gently sets it on the table. He eyes it. “This should be more than enough to cover my meal,” she decrees. “One of the girls is waiting outside for me so I’m going to go.”

She stands up from the chair, giving Craig a forced smile before walking away from the table and eventually, out of his view — out of the restaurant.

He thinks it should hurt more than it does but he feels nothing.

The waiter comes around with the check. Craig grabs the abandoned twenty on the other side of the table, along with another handful of cash from his pocket, handing it to the waiter. “You’re all set,” he tells him, anxious to get out of here.

He slides on his jacket and walks out of the restaurant into the humid, late September air. He looks up, spotting dark, grey clouds. He picks up his hood, just in case it starts to storm before he gets inside.

His phone dings.

Kenny.

_Heard u got dumped again._

He shakes his head. God, gossip in this town is fast.

**_Ya, w/e_ **

_U wanna come over to smoke?_

Craig glances at the dark, grey clouds again and then his phone. _Fuck it._

**_Sure_ **

Kenny’s house is closer than his own anyways — he will definitely avoid the storm this way. He’ll just wait it out at Kenny’s until it’s over and then walk home, dry and high; a double win.

He walks to Kenny’s — about eight minutes away — and walks into the house without knocking; a typical practice. He is immediately met with the smell of marijuana. Karen is in the living room, on the couch, watching something on TV that Craig does not recognize.

“Hey Karen,” he greets the younger McCormick.

She perks up at him, grinning. “Hey Craig! They are in Kenny’s room.” _They._ Craig should not be shocked; it is a common occurrence that Kenny has someone else over. Usually he asks, makes sure it’s someone he is chill with, but today he just didn’t think to. 

He usually doesn’t care who it is; only really irritated when it’s Stan because, well, the two are fucking gross and obnoxious with their PDA.

He opens the door to his room, and is sort of _shocked_ upon who he sees.

_Tweek Tweak._

He knows they are _friends;_ sees them around sometimes; assumes Tweek still delivers special _packages_ to the McCormick household, but Tweek has always been — well, used to be — against taking any drugs, ever since he found out his parents were pretty much running a full on drug operation.

He seems to have changed his mind though as he inhales the smoke of the joint, coughing into his arm. Kenny stares at him, “why are you just standing there? Take a seat,” Kenny throws his arm out towards the wholeness of his room. He decides to take a seat on the bean bag chair that resides at the end of Kenny’s bed — by his desk. Kenny’s room is really small, everything is next to each other.

Kenny and Tweek sit on their bed, backs against the walls and legs laid out in front of them. He cannot stop staring at Tweek as his coughing subdues, under a myriad of mumbled apologies, passing the joint to Kenny.

Kenny takes a drag as his eyes fall to Craig. Craig quickly looks away from Tweek and at Kenny.

“So,” he inhales, holding in the smoke a moment before speaking. “What happened with you and what’s-her-name?” Smoke surrounds his words. He immediately goes for another seamless hit, taking it down in a much more graceful manner than Tweek. Kenny has been smoking since the age of twelve though so it makes sense. He wonders how long Tweek has.

Craig shrugs, “I don’t know. I don’t care enough to think about it — it’s probably for the best,” he rests his head against the leg of Kenny’s desk behind him. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Kenny’s outstretched arm — the joint tucked in between his fingers.

He takes it, bringing it to his lips as Kenny asks another question.

“Wasn’t she, like, a freshman?”

“Sophomore,” Craig corrects as his exhaled smoke surrounds him. He eyes Tweek again, he has brought his knees up to his chest, arms encircled around them — eyes on him. He looks away, takes another hit and then reaches up and hands the joint to him — fingers brushing against one another as he passes it over — Tweek’s eyes locked on his.

He doesn’t like talking about this in front of Tweek for some reason. He just wants Kenny to shut up about it already.

“I bet she realized you weren’t the mystery, bad boy that everyone thinks you are, and that you’re actually just this huge, anime, guinea-pig loving, nerd.”

Craig swipes his eyes back over to Kenny, glaring and raising a middle finger. He hears quiet laughter — looking over to find Tweek laughing softly into his knees.

“What?” He asks.

“It’s just true,” Tweek shrugs. “That was just, ah, a good description for you.”

His eyes crinkle when he laughs; he has noticed this before a dozen times before but it has been awhile since he has seen Tweek laugh; it’s been awhile since he has seen up close Tweek, at all.

Craig’s eyes follow the joint Tweek hands to Kenny. The dirty-blond boy takes another hit, looking smug with his joke. Craig just frowns and looks away. How is it his fault people create this false image of him in their minds? It’s not. People are just fucking stupid.

“Oh, well,” Kenny murmurs, “I’m sure some other poor girl is already planning her move on you.”

Kenny passes him the joint. He takes a hit. Holding onto the smoke in his lungs and releasing.

He gets a lot of attention from girls, especially after he got his braces off freshman year. He likes the attention; likes being adored by these girls. It makes him feel better about himself, but he never really has any feelings for them. He supposes it sort of makes him an asshole, maybe, to go out with them, but he is a guy — he is supposed to go out with dozens of different girls in high school. They make it so easy, throwing themselves at him.

He doesn’t really get it.

He doesn’t do sports — sports are lame. Instead, he works with Kenny on the AV Club, filming the morning announcements and occasionally going out to one of the football games or, whatever else school event, to get some footage to air on the morning announcements the week after.

He is tall. He guesses girls like that. He is the tallest guy in their grade. 

He guesses he is attractive — he has been told many of times by many different people. 

And he _guesses_ he seems mysterious to people but it’s only because he hates a lot of people, hates his classes and teachers. He doesn’t make any effort to really talk to anyone outside his friend group, barely showing up to any class parties, unless Token or Clyde force him.

He is much unlike the two blondes who surround him.

Kenny gets along with everyone — chill and laid back, hard to _not_ get along with, and Tweek — he is weird on the surface, jittery and anxious, but once people get to know him, they love him. Tweek makes it easy to get to know him, always saying what’s on his mind, engaging himself in multiple different cliques of people. He just floats around because he _can,_ because he is _interesting_ enough, and any person is happy to adopt him into their friend group.

Craig was once friends with him too.

They were close — like _really_ close, but it wasn’t even like Tweek was his best friend or anything — that’s always basically been Clyde, but their friendship was different than his friendship with others. It felt _special;_ he wasn’t like Clyde or Token. He was _Craig’s_ friend —If he was hanging out with their group, it was because _Craig_ invited him. He was close with Tweek in ways he wasn’t with Clyde, and it felt _different._

He didn’t want Tweek to be part of his group with Clyde and Token. He just wanted him for himself.

He thinks he was sort of obsessed with him. _Maybe_. It was weird — it still weirded him out. It’s part of the reason he distanced himself from him — it was just way too fucking bizarre with Tweek; he is too encapsulating of a person to just be around casually.

But now, here he is again, right in front of him, looking soft and glowing under the smoke and slight buzz.

Kenny snaps his fingers in his face. “Dude, pass it.”

He blinks. Passes it to Tweek again. Their fingers brush against one another. Something twinkles in Tweek’s eyes. It makes his stomach flutter. He hears thunder.

“I should —,” he is ready to spring up and get the fuck out of here, but then Karen interupts.

“ _Kenny! The ceiling is leaking again!”_

“Aw, shit,” Kenny mumbles, immediately springing up off the bed. “Be right back,” he adds, shutting the door as he leaves.

Craig just stares blankly, the words on his tongue dying. He slinks back into the bean bag, biting his lip, eyes falling to Kenny’s dirty carpet. He cannot just leave now — it feels too awkward, would be way too obvious.

“Craig.”

“What?” His eyes flash up. Tweek’s arm is extended up to him, joint in hand. “Oh,” he mumbles sheepishly, taking the joint. _Touch._

He brings it to his lips, inhaling too sharply and coughing into his arm.

He hears Tweek laugh through his coughs. Craig stares at him. His eyes are pink now. He is smiling. “It makes me feel better that the _elusive and cool_ Craig Tucker coughs up a shit storm when smoking too.”

He abruptly stops his coughing, even though it _hurts_ to, as his eyes water up. The tickle in his throat betrays him, forcing out another cough, eliciting a laugh from Tweek again. He flushes red — convinced it is from the lack of breathing. He flips Tweek off. “I usually don’t,” he argues, passing the joint back over. _Touch_.

Tweek brings the joint up to his lips — there is barely anything left of it and his slender fingers almost touch the embers. Smoke pours out of his mouth as he speaks, “don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.” The smoke evaporates. Tweek is smiling again — his brown eyes crinkling and that one dimple on his left cheek present. He knows he should stop looking but he doesn’t. He doesn’t know why Tweek doesn’t attract more female attention. He is objectively good looking — long, blonde hair that hasn’t lost any brightness since childhood, full, pink lips and a long straight nose. He supposes the only thing is his height: he is pretty fucking short — probably his parents fault for giving him so much coffee at such a young age, stunting his growth. Craig thinks that if he was a girl though, he would find it cute — it wouldn’t bother him; it was, in fact, endearing.

“What?”

Craig realizes he has been staring. _Fuck_. He stands up. “I should go, my parents are expecting me home.”

“Oh, okay,” Tweek responds — a frown on his mouth. _Does he care? Does he want him to stay?_ It doesn’t matter. He is going anyways. “Do you want one last hit before you go?”

He eyes it. It is barely a roach but he reaches forward and grabs it anyways, his fingers brushing against Tweek’s in the process. The embers nearly touch his skin as he inhales one last time. He exhales the smoke, then puts the roach out on Kenny’s ashtray.

“I’ll see you around, Tweek,” he mumbles, not looking at him as he opens Kenny’s bedroom door, immediately shutting it behind him.

He says goodbye to Karen and Kenny as well — Kenny too invested in stopping the leak to question his quick departure. _Thank God._ It was easy with Tweek — he doesn’t know what his parents are like anymore — if he told Kenny, he already knows what he would say — “ _your parents don’t give a shit! Just tell em’ you’ll be home later.”_

He doesn’t even really know why he is leaving — why he is choosing to walk through the fucking pouring rain in the middle of a thunderstorm when he could just wait it out at Kenny’s — the obvious answer is Tweek, of course, but what _about_ him? He doesn’t want to think about it.

Out of sight. Out of mind.


	2. high talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm for the support!
> 
> (PSA to any readers of Friend of a Friend: I am sorry that I am taking so long, I just want to make the last chapter something special! and I be struggling)

“I told you he hates me.”

Kenny is half-way through the bedroom door. “Have you been thinking about this since he left?” 

“Come on, Kenny, is that even a real question?” He tilts his chin down, eyes narrowed onto the dirty blonde, closing the bedroom door. “Do you even know who I am?”

Kenny snickers, the click of the door shutting hitting his ear. He walks over to the bean bag chair, “I don’t think he hates you.” Kenny sinks his knees into the bean bag chair, setting his elbows on the desk to prepare another joint. He picks up the joint paper and begins lining it with the remnants of what’s left inside his grinder. “Craig is just weird like that — he darts out of here all the time. You should see how he is when Stan is around — I fucking  _ touch _ him, and he dips.”

Tweek bites his lip, watching as Kenny grinds more weed for the joint. He resists the urge to pull at his hair — his therapist has been helping him throughhis disorder; telling him to journal his _hair pulling;_ at first it sounded ridiculous but Tweek realizes now, it has helped a lot. His therapist said he suffers from trichotillomania, _a hair pulling disorder,_ caused by anxiety and stress, usually, and also serves as a form of self harm. He gave him a stress ball to use instead when he is feeling anxious. Tweek has to get a new one every two weeks because he completely _wrecks_ them but his therapists’ resources are thankfully endless. He pulls out the blue stress ball from his flannel pocket, feeling the material reshape to his grip. “Did you not see his fucking eyes? He was staring at me, man. He looked like he wanted to fight me or poison me, or something.” He realizes his knees are clicking heedlessly against one another. He abruptly stops the action.

“Or he wants to  _ fuck  _ you.”

Tweek’s whole stomach does a flip as he leans forward and eyes agape. “What?” He demands. “What the actual fuck — no!” He leans back, staring at the ceiling, blush creeping to his cheeks in spite of himself. “That’s  _ insane — you’re _ insane. You think everyone wants to fuck  _ everyone.  _ Craig’s not even gay!” He cries out, leaning forward again at Kenny. He is smirking now, licking the joint to seal the edges. Something that Tweek can only define as a laugh comes from Kenny’s mouth.

“That we know of.”

“Not everyone is gay!”

Kenny shrugs. “That we know of.” A sly smile spreads out across his face.

Tweek rolls his eyes, leaning back again, the top of his head coming in contact with the wall. He glances at the mouse cage on Kenny’s desk — hearing the slightest rattle; he is probably on his wheel. “Craig is  _ not _ gay,” he argues.

One day, while feeding Craig’s guinea pig a snack, Tweek got bit. Craig wrapped a bandage around his finger in response. Tweek’s heart pounded the whole time —  _ the amount of times their skin brushed, the eruption of his personal bubble, the way his fingers sort of lingered longer than needed. _ Tweek gulps.

Tweek spots smoke out of the corner of his eye. Kenny stretches his arm out to pass the joint. He takes it, pressing it between his lips and inhaling deeply, closing his eyes. He inhales too much though and coughs wildly into his arm.

“ _ Dude _ , you always take way too big of hits.” He opens his eyes. Kenny is shaking his head. 

“Why do you think he is gay?” He inquires even though he shouldn’t. Kenny shrugs, putting his hand forward for the joint like a toddler who wants their rattle — it is kind of amusing. He hands it to him, a half-smile to his face — probably because of the high he feels.

Kenny takes a deep hit, holding the smoke in a long time, before letting it all go. He sucks in a bit of air before speaking, “I’m just good at this stuff Tweek — my gaydar is always spot on,” he shrugs, taking another hit, eyes fleeting.

Tweek scoffs. “Did you know  _ I _ was gay?”

“I mean, I wasn’t  _ shocked _ , or anything. I didn’t really think about it much…. maybe if you were still closested, I would.”

Tweek rolls his eyes, accompanying it with a laugh, tilting his head back again. The crown of his head clicks against the wall. “Yeah, yeah, exactly — you’re just all bullshit.”

Without looking up, Tweek assumes Kenny is probably shrugging. When Kenny nudges his ankle, attempting to pass the joint to him, he shakes his head. “I’m good,” he mumbles out. Kenny’s ceiling has become his main center of focus; his mind filling with thoughts of Craig’s possible sexual orientation. 

He has thought Craig was gay too, but he always just assumed it was confirmation bias — he never really trusted his judgement when it came to the noriette. Things sometimes seemed so…  _ intimate _ with him. He seemed  _ softer  _ almost when he was alone with him — he is so jagged out in public, so rough around the edges, but Tweek knows a  _ different  _ Craig and he  _ misses _ that Craig.

He doesn’t really know when they stopped being friends; what  _ happened  _ between them. His doctor prescribed him adderall, near the beginning of highschool, making him act like a total zombie, until finally, they altered the prescription. He often wonders if it was because of that. He acted  _ so  _ differently and was extremely distant; but even after that, they were still  _ friends _ — it seemed like distance at first, but it slowly became Craig not even speaking to him. The whole thing has always freaked him out too much to ever ask. He figures it is for the best anyhow. 

It was a late summer day, right before the start of high school, when he came to the startling conclusion that he was  _ in love  _ with Craig Tucker. They were laying in the cool grass of Tweek’s backyard, just watching the clouds pass in the sky — pointing out their favorite shapes. His parents weren’t home. Sometime between finding a cloud shaped like Stripe and another shaped like a mug of coffee, Craig’s pinkie came in contact with his. The touch was microscopic but he kept it there — Tweek, under a mass amount of stress and anxiety, curled his pinkie over Craig’s own. Craig mimicked his actions. They were playing footsie but that wasn’t unusual, they kind of  _ always _ did. The clouds eventually went down with the sun, but they stayed planted in the grass; the stars finally creeping out and his parents returning home. Craig pulled his pinkie back as soon as they heard them; stopped playing footsie. It was such a small gesture — their hooked pinkies — but it meant so much; it made him  _ want  _ so much more that he was doomed to never have. Being with Craig was simultaneously the best and worst thing in the world.

Craig went home right after his parents came home. That was the beginning of the end, really, the start of high school; the demise of his  _ friendship  _ with Craig Tucker.

“He isn’t gay, Ken, he just hates me.”

He should stop talking about him but he _can’t._ He cannot resist bringing him _up_ again. He wants any excuse to talk about him.

Oh,  _ god,  _ he cannot imagine how bad it would be if Craig was a prominent figure in his life, if it is  _ this  _ bad after seeing him for such a short period of time.

“To be  _ fair,  _ he hates  _ everyone,  _ like, I am not even sure half the time, he likes  _ me _ , and he comes over just about every other day to smoke.” 

“No, it’s different,” Tweek immediately backfires, honestly not paying much attention to Kenny anyways. He squeezes his stress ball. “We used to be  _ friends _ . We would hang out and play video games and watch stupid videos on his laptop, and play with his dumb guinea pig.” He realizes he has the stress ball in a death grip. He takes in a deep breath, letting the air go along with the stress ball. He doesn’t even really know what he is talking about right now — he is pretty high and his thoughts are all blending together. What is his point? “We sat in school assemblies together a lot — like we literally would go out of our way to  _ find  _ each other so we could sit by one another.”

“Why don’t you just ask him?”

“What?” Tweek blinks at the ceiling and then adjusts his eyes on Kenny who is now laying down in the bean bag chair, his hair dipping into the dirty carpet, face angled up at the ceiling.

“Why don’t you  _ ask  _ him what happened?” Kenny clarifies.

_ Oh _ . Tweek recalls what they were talking about. Craig  _ hates  _ him.

“What! Are you kidding? No way, man! I am not doing that!”

“I could —,”

“No! No, no, don’t say  _ anything, _ ” he demands, eyes locked on Kenny, but Kenny is not looking at him. “Seriously, Kenny, don’t — promise me you won’t.”

“Fine,” a small sigh escapes his mouth. “I won’t. But if you really care that much, maybe you should.”

“I don’t care!” Tweek finds himself grabbing onto Kenny's comforter at the sides of them. He lets out a deep breath. It is much easier to calm himself when he is stoned. “I don’t care. It’s just an … observation.”

“Okay,” he hears Kenny murmur. 

Some thunder clashes. A long moment of silence passes. Kenny begins to compare thunder to lightning — asks Tweek what thunder even  _ is.  _ Tweek has no clue. It is all nonsensical  _ high talk. _

  
Tweek continues to think about Craig, unable to think of anything or anyone else.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry it was short :-( other chapters will be longer but I just wanted to end it with this scene in Kenny’s room ~~~ hope you liked it, let me know 💙


	3. homecoming nominations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for the support everyone :)

It’s early in the morning; Craig feels like his brain is being bulldozed. He got barely any sleep the night before.

Kenny slithers up to him, sucker in his mouth — probably a CBD one — and sets a hand on his shoulder. “Morning, Tucker,” he greets, his hand falling. Craig watches him as he equips himself to the camera next to him.

“Morning.”

“You dipped pretty fast last night,” he glances up for a mere second. “Makes me feel like you’re taking advantage of my friendly hospitality.”

He rolls his eyes. “I was _tired._ I am tired now. I didn’t sleep well — can you just drop it?”

Kenny flashes him a quick glance before returning his gaze to the camera. He doesn’t pester him further. Thank God. 

Stan comes up to them, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend, making Craig feel slightly uncomfortable. He averts his eyes as they share a kiss. 

Stan steals the sucker out of his boyfriend’s mouth, putting it in his mouth instead. Craig holds back a gag.

“Craig,” Stan greets him with a curt nod.

“Hi.”

“You look like shit.” Stan tells him.

“Good thing I’m the one behind the camera, then.”

Stan smirks, snickering before pushing the sucker back into Kenny’s mouth. The action sends a tingling sensation through his body; he ignores it. Stan saunters off, taking his place in front of the camera, alongside Nichole, the other main anchor.

Craig eyes Kenny — the slight flush to his cheeks and smile to his lips, looking at Stan. He feels something form in his stomach that is somewhere in between disgust and envy. 

He looks down. His head fucking hurts.

“Do you have another one of those suckers?”

Kenny takes the sucker out of his mouth and holds it out to him. Craig scowls at it, “gross. No fucking way I’m touching that.”

Kenny giggles, putting it back in his mouth. “I have another, but it’s in my locker. I’ll give it to you after.”

“Don’t bother. Turner will just make me throw it out.”

Kenny shrugs. “Your loss.”

The morning announcements begin — Stan Marsh smiles at the camera, looking full of himself as always. He supposes he has a right to be — he is Mr. Popularity — quarterback on the football team, devilishly handsome, former boyfriend of the most popular girl in school, and now, boyfriend of Kenny McCormick — the high school teddy bear who is also simultaneously hot as fuck — at least that’s what people _say._

Nichole is in high contrast to Stan — soft and angelic, soft spoken but well heard. He has always liked Nichole for that. 

“Well, today we announce this year’s Homecoming theme!” Nichole speaks into the camera, hands clasped on the desk. “ _Once Upon a Time_!” Nichole smiles excitedly.

“Yes, that’s right,” Stan confirms. “This year’s homecoming theme is _Once Upon a Time._ Details about spirit week will be given out tomorrow, the homecoming court being announced by the end of the week.”

“That’s right! So, you better start thinking about who the king and queen will be,” Nichole adds. “Nominations will be sent out in third period today!” Craig rolls his eyes and glances over at Kenny, who is pointing fingers at himself and winking. Craig flips him off, eyes back on Nichole as she speaks, “Please cast a vote for either a Junior or Senior — otherwise your vote will be obsolete.” 

“And I just want to add, both Nichole and I _are_ eligible to be homecoming royalty,” Stan delivers with a wink. Craig shakes his head.

Nichole laughs gingerly. “Oh, Stan — it’s not right to use leverage. Vote for whoever you think most deserves it,” she smiles sweetly.

“Now, let’s cut to Kyle with sports,” Stan concludes.

Some freshman cuts to the video Kyle took over the weekend at the football game. Craig is the one who took the video. Kenny came with him to “help”, but ended up just making out with Stan at halftime.

As the video plays, Stan gets up and slithers up to his boyfriend again. “Remember what we were doing when Craig was taking this video, baby?” Craig unfortunately hears Kenny _whisper_ to his boyfriend.

“How could I not?” Stan purrs back. “Want to do it again — before first period? Nichole can handle the outdo herself.”

Kenny smirks. He punches Craig lightly in the shoulder. “You good, dude? I’m gotta go start my day right.”

Craig grimaces at the pair. “Just fucking go already.”

He watches the two link hands and walk away — probably to the school’s auditorium. Kenny tells him he and Stan always fuck there in the morning because no one is around. The thought of them doing things together sends his stomach in a twist. He shakes off the thought, his eyes landing on Nichole. 

He walks up to her cautiously. “Hey, so… uh, Stan and Kenny left… so, you’re fine with doing the outro alone, right?”

She smiles, “yeah, of course, thanks for telling me though! Whenever they dip, they never do.”

Craig nods, smacking his lips together. Craig is about to turn around, but Nichole begins to say something else. “I was going to nominate you for homecoming king,” she murmurs in a soft tone.

He arches his eyebrows up. “Really…?” He does not think he is the type. _Stan Marsh_ is the type. “Why?” He inspects.

She shrugs. “Well, it’s not like I’m _only_ voting for you — we nominate five boys, and all the girls have pretty much decided on who — and well, you’re one of them!” Her smile is difficult not to return.

“Oh, well... who are the other boys?” He feels himself blushing.

“I can’t tell you — I’ve probably already spoken too much, honestly,” she offers. “Promise you won’t say anything, though?”

He thinks about it. He really wants to gloat to Clyde — but Nichole is nice and he likes her, so he will keep the secret. “Sure… but look, I don’t even really _care_ about any of this — don’t you think you should nominate someone who does? Like… I don’t know, Stan.”

She laughs. “Craig, don’t be so humble — why wouldn’t we nominate you?”

The way her eyes sparkle at him — it’s the look most girls give him. He scratches the nape of his neck and looks down. “Uh, well… thanks, Nichole.”

“You’re welcome, Craig! Hope you win,” she winks at him.

“Thanks,” he says, “maybe I’ll put in a vote for you, too.”

She giggles. “I think the homecoming court for girls is pretty much set, but thanks.”

He nods and offers a shy smile before returning to his place behind the camera. The video of Kyle ends, returning the screen to Nichole. Nichole offers a few final words — including what’s for lunch — before waving goodbye. Craig shuts the camera off.

  
  
  


He walks to his first period with dragging feet — dreading the thought of American History this early in the morning — or ever, _really_. He always gets away with showing up late because he does morning announcements. He may only be shaving off a couple minutes, but a couple minutes means everything when discussing American History.

When he walks into class — the door still open — his teacher is already in deep discussion of the Thirteen Colonies. Craig resists the urge to groan as he treks to his desk in the back of class.

He immediately notices Tweek is missing.

American History is the only class he shares with him — he sits two seats ahead of him, his blonde mess of hair always in view. He usually comes later — even later than Craig — missing the morning announcements and the first couple minutes of their teacher talking.

_Why is he thinking about Tweek again?_

He doesn’t usually acknowledge his tardiness. He doesn’t usually care enough to, but ever since last night, he cannot get the stupid thought of him out of his head.

Like clockwork, Tweek appears a couple minutes later — tardy slip in hand and hair a mess. He gives the tardy slip to the teacher before taking his seat, two desks ahead of Craig. Craig’s eyes follow him, watch as he settles in and sets his thermos on his desk. He pulls a notebook from his backpack, covered in buttons and pins of a million different varieties. He watches as his shoulders fall and the way he cannot, for the life of him, sit still.

He wonders how long he stayed at Kenny’s. Kenny didn’t look too tired, but most of the time, he looks pretty well rested, in contrast to Tweek, who constantly carries bags under his eyes. 

In truth, he misses Tweek. 

It’s sort of why he couldn’t sleep — he misses him; hearing him ramble; hearing his ridiculous conspiracy theories and ideas. With Tweek, it’s always something new — he does not give a shit about normal high schoolers’ lines of thought. He is more complex than that. He is different than anyone he has ever met. 

His eyes fall onto his backpack, which sits at the base of his desk. He squints at the visible pins and buttons. One of them is a coffee pot — _of course_ . Another is of Buddha, which is also perfectly predictable. The third one he notices though… It's a _pride flag._ He stares at it, eyebrows pushing together. He knows Tweek is an ally — extremely left leaning and liberal — but … is it _more_ than that? 

He shakes his head.

Allies can have pride flags too.

He refrains his eyes off of Tweek and his belongings and onto the teacher, determined to stop thinking about Tweek Tweak.

  
  
  
  
  


When his second period rolls around, he takes his seat in the back of the classroom, next to Clyde. Their teacher has already begun to write out math equations on the board. 

“Dude — they are going to pass out homecoming nominations — we are finally able to be nominated, dude! You know how many girls will wanna fuck us if we get nominated?”

Clyde’s whispers are closer to a normal talking voice than anything. Craig glances at their teacher — still writing equations on the chalkboard. He thinks of what Nichole said, the way she _looked_ at him.

He likes her. He does, more so than most girls, actually. Yet, he still does not really… _like_ her.

He has had sex before, with two separate girls.

The first time with his girlfriend in ninth grade, Millie. They did it three times. It was okay — nothing like the movies or porn he has seen. It felt _good,_ but not like… _spectacular_ or anything.

The second time happened this previous summer — he thought he would give it a try again, see if it was any better with someone else — that someone else being a girl a year above them. It was, somehow, _worse._ Again, it felt good, but it took him way longer to come compared to when he just jerked off alone in his bedroom. They only did it one time — Craig breaking up with her a few days later like the asshole he is.

Clyde, on the other hand, is _obsessed_ with sex — talks about it every minute of everyday; always planning new ways to seduce the girls of their grade. He dated Bebe for a while, lost his virginity to her, and hasn’t slept with anyone since. Craig is pretty certain Clyde is still in love with her — _obsessed_ with her, more like it — if he is not talking about sex, he is talking about Bebe.

Like clockwork, Clyde goes, “I bet Bebe will be one of the nominees — should I vote for her? I don’t want to but also… it’s _Bebe_ … we all know she is by _far_ the hottest girl in school.”

Objectively, maybe Clyde is right. Bebe has large breasts, a curvy body and long, wavy blond hair. Guys ogle at her — dote on her, treat her like a fucking goddess. Craig thinks she is overrated.

“Who are you voting for?”

Craig hasn’t really thought about it. “Nichole… I guess?”

“Nichole is cute,” Clyde agrees, “you are voting for _me_ right?”

“Sure.”

“Sick, dude, this is gonna be the greatest fucking thing to ever happen to us —,” he slips his hand around his shoulder, making him slightly uncomfortable. He sort of inches away but his hand still resides on him. “We will be swimming in pussy.”

“Clyde Donovan and Craig Tucker!” Their teacher is now facing the front of the class, eyes locked on the pair. Clyde lets his hand fall and Craig lets out a breath he did not realize he was holding. “I heard that! Detention after school today — both of you.”

Craig frowns, glaring at his loud mouth friend who gives him an awkward, sheepish smile in response. 

  
  
  
  


Third period means homecoming nominations.

His teacher passes them out. Craig stares down at the sheet of paper — ten blank slots; five under “Boys” and five under “Girls.” He stares at it a moment before picking up his pen. He writes Clyde Donovan under “Boys” as promised, and “Nichole” under “Girls.” With that, he has no fucking clue who else to write.

He thinks of Stan — how _obvious_ it is that he is the stereotypical homecoming king and just writes him down out of pure laziness, and then, also out of pure laziness, writes out _Wendy Testaburger._ They are both bound to be nominated, anyways. He then thinks of Bebe and writes her down too — another _obvious_ nominee.

He sighs. He does not know who else to put.

He would rather not think of his classmates. He doesn’t like most of them. He decides to put down Kenny because _whatever_ and then he thinks of Tweek — his long, blonde hair and pale skin — his deep set brown eyes — that fucking pride pin on his backpack. He writes Tweek’s name down too, not sure exactly _why,_ but deciding that he is definitely one of the most attractive people in school — most attractive _guy._

Clearing his thoughts of Tweek, he fills out the rest of the slots for the girls. He writes the name of the senior girl he slept with this previous summer, figuring he at least owes her a homecoming nomination. Then, he writes out _Heidi Turner_ because they are sort of friends, and he just needs the stupid list to be complete.

He looks over to the boys’ side. He scans his eyes around the room. His eyes land on Jimmy Valmer. Jimmy is cool. He puts him down as well.

Complete.

Thank God.

He turns in the homecoming nomination paper and lets out a sigh of relief that it is over with.

  
  
  


During lunch, Clyde is quick to bring up the nominations.

“You voted for me, right?” His friend immediately asks, sitting down beside him on the cafeteria bench. “And yourself? They don’t know if you vote for yourself.”

“I was supposed to vote for you?”

Clyde face falls, eyes wide and hurt. “Craig —,” he whines.

“Chill the fuck out — yes, I voted for you.”

“And yourself?”

“No.”

Craig eyes his burrito. It is a very, very, sad looking burrito. 

“Dude! That was the plan! We were supposed to both be nominated. We would get so many chicks! We could double date.”

Craig rolls his eyes. He scoops up some of the mexican rice on his fork and pushes it into his mouth — tasting the extreme blandness of cafeteria food, almost as bland as Clyde’s obsession with girls and sex. 

Thankfully, Token sits down with a lunch box across from them, diverting the conversation from Clyde’s plan to be a sex God or whatever the fuck he thinks is going to happen if he gets nominated for Homecoming Court.

“Token!” Clyde’s eyes dart onto their friend. “You are on student council — who is winning? Is it me? Can you rig it so that I win? I won’t tell anyone.”

Token frowns. “I’m not committing fraud for you, Clyde.”

“What?” Clyde whines. “Why? I totally would for you. We’re homies.”

“Don’t say that.” Token rolls his eyes. Token opens his lunch. Inside is a thermos — probably full of whatever delicious meal his mother prepared last night. “Also, we have not even gotten a chance to count ballots yet. Ballots were literally just passed out.”

“Ballots,” Craig scoffs. “It’s not the fucking presidential election.”

“It’s _more_ important,” Clyde grabs Craig’s arm, the familiar sense of uncomfortableness hitting him once more. “ _This_ defines the rest of our high school career — determines if we will easily get pussy or if we actually have to work for it,” Clyde runs a hand across his face, letting go of Craig’s arm. “God. It’s too much —,” he puts both his hands in his face. “Maybe I don’t even want to know.”

Token shakes his head and Craig sighs.

“Just kidding,” Clyde looks up, hands back at his sides. “I _need_ to know — when are you counting the votes?”

Token narrows his dark eyes on his friend, his mouth in a straight line. “After school today.”

Clyde grins, “great, so you can tell me and Craig after detention.”

“No.” Token denies him. “You’ll know whenever anyone else does.”

Clyde pouts and lets out a soft whine. Token takes a bite of his food. Craig is not sure what it is but it looks a lot better than what he has.

Clyde eyes him, “Craig, you probably will know before I do, right? They probably are going to announce it on morning announcements!”

“That doesn’t mean _I’ll_ know,” Craig murmurs, causing Clyde to deflate, his shoulders caving in. “They never tell me shit.”

Clyde sighs, picking up the pathetic looking burrito on his lunch tray. He takes a bite. Through his chewing, he mumbles, “this anticipation is going to fucking kill me, dudes.”

A pause follows his words. Token and Craig share a look of exhaustion before the conversation finally subsides.

“So, I asked Wendy last night to Homecoming.”

“Seriously? Wendy, again?” Craig eyes his friend. “Dude.”

“She is hot and smart — she is like the perfect girl for me,” Token defends. “She said yes, too, so,” Token smirks, placing a carrot into his mouth from his lunch bag. “And now that Stan and Kenny are official… there is no way she is going back with him.”

Craig shakes his head. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. She is still a bitch.”

“Dude,” Token glowers at him. “Not cool. She is just opinionated and passionate. I admire her.”

Clyde snorts. “Yeah, ‘cause you want to fuck her.” Clyde looks at Craig, putting up a hand for him to presumably… _high-five_?

“I’m not high-fiving you for that,” he deadpans.

Clyde frowns. The brunette rolls his eyes and returns his attention to his burrito.

“I don’t just want to fuck her. I think I really want this to go somewhere serious. I could really see a future with her.”

Clyde gags. “Dude, not while I’m eating.”

Craig snickers along with Clyde.

“You guys are such assholes,” he shakes his head. He takes in a deep breath. “So, you guys going stag or what? Homecoming is like a week away now…,”

Clyde grins. “Well, gotta wait to see how this nomination goes… see my options, you know.”

This time, it is Token who gags. He rolls his eyes and turns his stare to Craig. Craig feels his heart drop slightly. He honestly has not really thought about Homecoming. He doesn’t really _want_ to go with anyone, but if his friends are… maybe he should too?

“Maybe, I’ll ask Nichole… she seems… into me.”

Clyde snorts. “Dude. Don’t do that to sweet Nichole. She is way too nice for you to break her heart.”

“I won’t break her heart.”

“You’ll break her back and _then_ break her heart, just like all the rest of the chicks you date.”

Craig rolls his eyes. He looks back at Token.

“Nichole is nice. And she is friends with Wendy, so that could be really fun!” Token offers a slight smile. “But… Nichole is _really_ nice…” his friend’s soft words are laced with concern, the corners of his lips slightly turned downward.

“Whatever.” He rolls his eyes. “Maybe I’ll just see if Heidi is going with someone.”

“I hear Eric is asking her,” Token says.

“ _What_ ?” Craig narrows his eyes on Token. “Eric _Cartman_?”

Token nods.

“Then, maybe I should _definitely_ ask her.”

“I think she _wants_ him to ask her.”

Craig feels like he might throw up at the thought. Who would _want_ anything to do with that fat lard?

“That’s … _disgusting_ ,” he shakes his head. 

“Are you jealous?” Clyde pokes his arm, making him scowl at him.

“No, I am _concerned_ ,” he fires back. “But whatever — maybe I _will_ just ask Nichole. I am not going to break her fucking heart — plus it’s homecoming, not fucking marriage.”

Token shrugs. “Homecoming means a lot in high school.” He takes another bite of his packed lunch.

Craig looks down at his sad burrito that he has not even touched. He takes another forkful of the bland rice. “It’s just fucking homecoming. You guys are so goddamn dramatic.”

“Whatever, dude, your call,” Token shrugs. “Nichole is pretty hot. It wouldn’t be a bad choice.”

“Yeah,” Clyde agrees. “I’d fuck her.”

Craig glares at his brunette friend who seemingly just seems completely oblivious. He lets out a soft sigh, eyes on his pathetic burrito once more. He picks it up. Before he takes a bite, he mumbles out, “guess I’m asking Nichole then.”

  
  
  
  


By the end of the day, he is more than ready to just go home, but because of his best friend, he is forced to spend another hour and half in a classroom.

He and Clyde show up to the classroom, taking seats near the back. There are a few other students — some goth kids and jocks, nothing too surprising. Nothing too surprising until Tweek Tweak walks through the door. 

Their eyes lock. He looks slightly startled and hesitant, but quickly looks away, taking a seat in the front of the classroom. Craig stares at him. 

Why can he not get away from him?

All he wants to do is to stop thinking about him, and now here he is _again_ ; in his life and his mind.

He nudges Clyde. “Why do you think Tweek is here?”

Clyde eyes him, and then being _Clyde,_ calls him _over._ Crag resists the urge to strangle his friend.

“Tweek!” Clyde calls out. The teacher is still not here. Tweek turns around in his seat with startled, wide eyes. Clyde motions him to come over. Craig darts his eyes away and looks down — _praying_ to whoever it is his family worships on Sundays that Clyde does not mention _he_ is the one who brought him up. 

Tweek takes a seat in the aisle across from them, next to Clyde. Craig sits in front of Clyde. He side eyes Tweek — not giving him his full attention, sure he is red.

“What you in for?” Clyde asks.

“Augh. I got caught smoking on the school grounds a week ago — I got two weeks detention.”

“Cigs or pot?” Clyde probes.

“Cigarettes.”

Craig eyes him. He smokes weed and tobacco now? Who the fuck is he? Tweek catches his stare and he hastily looks away again.

“ _Rough,_ buddy,” Clyde responds.

“What about you guys?” Tweek asks in a soft tone. Craig flashes his eyes up for a moment and sees that Tweek is staring at him. Fuck. If he doesn’t talk then Clyde is going to think he is fucking weird.

“Um, talking in class…”

“That’s it?” There is a slight tilt to his head with the words. “ _Talking?”_

Clyde blushes, running a hand through his hair. He smiles at Tweek, leaning in slightly. Once again, his whisper is more of normal octave than a whisper. “Well, we were talking about wanting to get laid.”

Craig flushes. He refuses to look at Tweek. He instead just lets out a deep breath and locks his eyes on his desk.

“ _Oh,”_ Tweek nods. “Um… cool.”

“Totes, bro,” Clyde responds, clueless to the fact that Tweek thinks it is anything less than cool. “We got this whole plan — we are going to win homecoming nomination — and a bunch of girls are going to _flock_ to us, practically _throwing_ off their clothes,” Clyde elaborates.

Craig actually sinks down on his desk. He pulls down the strings of his chullo hat slightly, _begging_ that no one sees how red he is — _praying_ that a teacher comes in and stops this humiliation from going further.

“That’s … a good plan,” he hears Tweek say softly.

“How about you, Tweek? Asking any lucky lady to homecoming?”

“Uh… no, probably not.”

He thinks of the pride flag. 

“I’m sure they’d say yes, dude,” Clyde offers. 

He still refuses to look over. 

“M-maybe, but … I … um, —,”

“You’re nervous. Totally get it. Ladies are intimidating.”

He finally glances at Tweek. He looks like a doe in headlights. _God_ . He cannot just continue to let this happen… Clyde is just _too much._ He knows how to handle him because they are best friends, but normal people have no idea what to do with him.

“Going stag is cool — I was considering doing that too,” he jumps in, his deep brown eyes connecting with his. “I might still, who knows.”

“Always so mysterious,” Tweek murmurs, a shy smile rising on his lips.

He gulps. He opens his mouth to say something but nothing comes out. He does now know if he is grateful or not for Clyde’s hand coming in contact with his shoulder. “That’s _Craig,”_ Clyde notes, “wish I was more like him cause girls _dig_ that but I can’t keep my mouth shut.”

Craig looks at his best friend, “yeah, it’s the reason I’m here, instead of at _home_.”

Clyde waves him off, “ _please_ , you’d probably just be watching reruns of Red Racer or something.”

He hears Tweek laugh a little at this. He looks over to him, narrowing his eyes onto the blonde. “What?” He asks.

“You still watch that? Isn’t that a kids show?”

“Whatever. Shut up,” he turns around in his seat. He hears both Clyde and Tweek chuckle behind him. The teacher walks in a second later (thank god) and tells everyone to be quiet and bring out a piece of loose leaf — they are to write out an essay on why it’s important to follow school rules.

As Craig writes his essay out, he once again is swarmed with thoughts of Tweek Tweak.

  
  
  
  
  



	4. cigarettes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty for all the support 
> 
> I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I know it’s kind of all over the place but I feel like that’s kind of how Tweek’s thought process goes haha.

On the seventh day of detention, Clyde offers him a ride home.

He gladly takes it, having to had walk home the last week and a half due to him missing the bus because of detention. Clyde has a fucking convertible because of course he does. He reminds him of someone out of a teen romcom movie — the offense on the football team, the high school stud, the _ladies_ man.

He likes Clyde. Clyde used to be his friend but with the demise of his friendship with Craig, came the end of Clyde too. They never really talked on their own — he hung out with them because of _Craig_. He talked to Token a little bit more — still occasionally will make conversation with him while in school, but never outside it. Clyde, on the other hand, completely disappeared with Craig. There was just nothing left connecting them — both just a friend of Craig.

Now, it’s Clyde he feels more at ease with — Craig hardly saying a word to him, not even bothering to _look_ at him, compared to last night when he would not stop _staring_ at him. The universe almost feels like it is trying to tell himself with the push of Craig Tucker’s appearance in the past twenty-four hours, but he is too scared to figure out what it is. 

When Clyde drops him off at his house, he leans his body over his red covetable and calls out to him, “hey, Tweek — who’d you vote for nominations? Did ya vote for me?”

Tweek stares, eyes wide. He blushes. “Um, no, I — sorry — fuck, I would have if I knew you’d be giving me a ride today.”

“Shit, man! Well, there is always next year! Never too early to campaign.”

Tweek smiles. “You got my vote!” 

Clyde salutes him, starting up his engine. Craig gives him a weak, awkward wave and Tweek waves back with a half-smile. “Thanks again!”

“No problem, dude!” Clyde calls out before speeding down the street.

Tweek watches as the red convertible disappears.

He lets out a deep breath. He may not have voted for Clyde, but he voted for Craig. Rumor has it that he is supposed to win so it’s not like his vote matters anyways. 

He walks up to his porch, fishing his key out of his bag, under piles of papers and lost pens. He finally finds it, unlocking his house. Thankfully his parents are at their dumb coffee shop and not here.

He throws his bag on the floor and goes to the coffee maker.

He expected to run into Craig Tucker at least once while on his two week spree. Craig has always been a pretty … _disobedient_ kid, known to spend more time in detention than anyone. He didn’t think he would talk to him though — have to explain why he was there. He supposes he could have lied but he is a terrible liar and coming up with something realistic was way too much pressure.

He used to be so against smoking — when they were kids and everyone was trying it out in fifth grade, he refused. He said it would give him lung cancer and it probably will. He probably is going by to be addicted all his life and constantly smell of cigarette smoke; a very unappealing to most, _normal_ people.

He leans against his kitchen counter as his coffee brews, arms across his chest.

The reason he started smoking is also the most lame reason in the history of the universe — a fucking boy. He got addicted to fucking nicotine for a _boy._ He just wanted Pete to like him — like _really_ like him, and he knew that cigarettes would do it. He didn’t think he would actually _like_ it and become addicted. It was calming, made his anxieties subdue for a pleasant amount of time. At least it _used_ to — now he just fucking feels more out of control without it — like he _more_ anxious than ever before.

It’s so fucking stupid. He cannot believe he started fucking smoking for a boy he dated for three weeks. 

It’s been months since they broke up. He doesn’t see Pete much because he typically _avoids_ them — taking smoke breaks on opposite sides of the school. He avoids the goth kids as a whole — once sort of friends with them, no longer. He is pretty sure they all think of him the same: _a conformist._ That is why Pete broke up with him — “you’re too much of a conformist,” he said. He supposes it is true — he only started smoking cigarettes because he had a crush on Pete and wanted to impress him.

He curses himself — why the fuck is he like this — he would fucking die for male attention; well, _wanted_ male attention. 

Tweek laughs again at Clyde — he was sure that most of the school knew he was gay but maybe that was all in his head; it’s not like he ever had a public boyfriend. When he was dating Pete, they were barely seen together; only found behind the bleachers.

He thought Kenny would have mentioned it to Craig though, maybe, and then Craig mention it to Clyde — he wonders if Craig knows; if he just never brought it up to Clyde because he is that nonexistent on his radar. 

It’s all possible.

His coffee is done.

He pours himself another cup, immediately taking a sip of the hot, black liquod. It’s refreshing and calm all at once.

He takes a seat on the couch and pulls his phone out — scrolling through all the instagram pictures of boys asking girls out. He sighs, and rolls his eyes. He doesn’t know why he wants some boy to ask him to homecoming in a stupid, cliche, overly romanticized way but he _does._

It’s not like Pete would have — _fuck no._ He wouldn’t have even gone to homecoming. 

He would probably be going alone even if they were still together, which is probably a sign they _shouldn’t_ be together.

_Fuck_.

He wants a cigarette but his parents don’t smoke. They only allow “organics” into their house. Tweek actually lets out laugh at this. They literally deal fucking meth.

It’s not like he has any money for cigarettes anyways — he got fired from his job due to having to call off multiple times because of his detentions. Goddamn cigarettes — the root of all his problems, or maybe it’s just _addiction_ that is the root of all his issues; his many, many issues — coffee, nicotine, _fucking Craig Tucker— god, what is it about him?_

“Talking about ways for us to get laid,” Clyde said. It’s fucking great. It’s wonderful. It’s hilarious that Kenny thinks he is any way, shape or form anything other than a heterosexual. He laughs at _himself_ for ever thinking he was ever lacking heteronormativity.

He thinks this may be the start of a manic episode. He sighs.

He texts Kenny. 

**_Tweek:_ ** _Do you have a cig I can bum off you?_

**_Kenny:_ ** _Sure, but u know ppl only typical say that when u r w/ them, right_

**_Tweek:_ ** _pls just get me a box, I’ll give u $_

He will take it out of his _Get-The-Fuck-Out-Of-Here_ fund. It is a fund he has been putting money in since the age of twelve (when he found out about the meth) to get away from his parents. 

He could go back to working at Tweak Bros, at least to just subdue his nicotine addiction, but that seems to be the opposite of the point. He will just find another job — then he will replace the money and it will all be fine.

**_Kenny:_ ** _sure, i’ll drop off, w Kyle and Stan tho_

**_Tweek:_ ** _ok thx ken_

**_Kenny:_ ** _np_

He waits, looking at more pictures on instagram of homecoming proposals. He spots one from Wendy Testabuger. It is a picture of her and Token — she is holding a ginormous bouquet of red roses and chocolate truffles. 

He wonders if Craig will be going with a friend of Wendy’s — since they are all probably in a group together. The thought of asking Kenny who Craig is thinking about going with piques his mind, but he ignores it and pushes it away. He won’t ask — won’t bring him up.

But he kind of wants to tell him what Clyde said — just to prove he is _not_ gay as Kenny argues.

On his second cup of coffee — _since he got home —_ there is a knock at the door. Tweek sets his coffee on the counter and runs to open it. On his porch, stands the three — along with Eric Cartman. He frowns. “I thought you said Stan and Kyle?”

The foursome walk through his door and Eric says, “fucking rude Tweek. That isn’t how you treat a guest — haven’t your meth head parents taught you manners?”

He nearly growls as his fists curl up at his sides. “They don’t fucking do the meth and I never invited you inside my house!”

“Cartman, shut the _fuck_ up,” Kyle scolds their friend. 

“He just shows up — _okay_ , you want these or not?” Kenny smirks, swinging the cigarette box out his jacket pocket.

Tweek lets out a sigh of relief, plunging forward to grab the pack. He holds it to his chest, smiling to himself. “You are the best, man,” he murmurs. “One second… I’ll get your money.”

He turns around to his backpack and grabs his wallet out of it to fish out seven dollars. He hands it to Kenny, and Kenny nods at him, lazily shoving it into his jean pocket. “You wanna smoke one together before we get going?”

“Sure, let’s go to the backyard,” Tweek guides them outside. He notices Kyle and Cartman are not following. He glances back at them.

“I can’t smell like smoke or my mom will kill me,” Kyle explains.

“I don’t to smell like fag smoke, I have a date with Heidi later — I’ll wait inside with Kiel.”

Tweek furrows his eyebrows at the _date with Heidi_ part but he just sighs, and says, “fine — but don’t break my shit or I’ll fucking murder you, Cartman!”

“Fuck you too, spaz.”

He shakes his head — no one makes his blood boil like Eric Cartman. He is the only person on the planet that makes him want to commit acts of violence.

He guides himself, Stan and Kenny out of his sliding door.

Kenny brings out three cigarettes from his already open pack — it’s sad how much Tweek appreciates this; not having to waste his own cigarettes. He takes a cigarette from Kenny. Kenny puts the other in his mouth and the last one in Stan’s. He flicks his lighter, lighting his own and then his boyfriend’s; Stan leaning into him slightly for the kindle. He weirdly feels more jealous than he ever has before — the act seemingly so intimate and natural between them.

Kenny passes him the lighter and Tweek lights his own, himself, somewhat feeling even sadder at his nicotine addiction than before — realizing he is all alone; started smoking cigarettes because of a boy who never even lit his cigarette for him. It’s just so caring — so gentle and considerate.

God, his lungs must hate him — who the fuck starts smoking for a boy? It’s so pathetic. Pete and the goth kids liked coffee, but they _loved_ cigarettes — he never would have cut it with them unless he smoked as well.

Now here he is, kicked out of the group and dumped with a fucking _nicotine addiction._ He shakes his head.

“You think they kill each other yet?” Stan glances back at the house.

Kenny shrugs. “Nah, but I bet they are fucking.”

“Stop fucking saying that!” Stan hisses. “I don’t need the mental image.”

Kenny snickers.

“You think Kyle and Cartman are gay?” Tweek asks. “Jesus, I told you, you say this about everyone.”

“I think _Cartman_ is — Kyle? Eh. Pretty sure he is asexual,” he shrugs.

“Who else did you say it about?” Stan asks through a puff of smoke.

“Craig.”

Suddenly, Tweek very much regrets saying anything. 

Stan laughs. “Oh yeah, _totally.”_

“I fucking told you,” he sticks his finger out at Tweek, making him look away and kick the dirt under his foot. 

He flushes. Stan thinks so too — it’s not just Kenny? Stan is his boyfriend though — of course he’d agree. He even told him previously, he’d agree; but he just assumed he was lying. He looks up, from Stan to Kenny. “That’s fucking… crazy.”

“Mmm,” Kenny hums. “Seems like you really want it to be true though.”

“What! _No_ , I don’t — I don’t care — he is straight, gay — whatever. It doesn’t affect me.”

“It could though,” Kenny winks at him.

Stan snickers. He puts a hand on Kenny’s shoulder. “Stop teasing him, Ken.” 

Kenny shrugs. “Just saying.” 

There is a pause. Tweek takes a long drag of the cigerette before letting it out. _Fuck_ . He does not want to be talking or thinking about Craig, but he is so bad at controlling his thoughts and emotions — even his fucking _words._ He is just going to fuel Kenny _more. Whatever_. At least Stan is here to subside him.

“Does Craig know I’m gay?” Tweek asks.

Kenny shrugs. “I don’t know — maybe?”

“Today Clyde was asking me what _girl_ I’m bringing to homecoming.”

Kenny snorts and Stan lefts out a laugh. Stan says, “that dude is the biggest heterosexual I’ve ever met.”

Funnily enough, Tweek thinks so too.

“I bet he’s the type to make rules with the other guy before a threesome to make sure there’s no cross combination _,”_ Kenny adds with a giggle. “Love the guy though — super sweet, just _so_ straight.”

How the fuck did they get on _Clyde._

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. But like, so Craig doesn’t know then… right….? Otherwise Clyde would for sure know.”

Kenny shrugs. “Never brought it up.” He looks over to him, mischief in his eyes and a smirk curved out on his lips. “You want me to tell him?” He wiggles his bushy eyebrows. “Bet when I do, he’ll jizz all over his pants.”

Stan chuckles. Tweek frowns, his cheeks resembling a fire hydrant at this point — _god_ , why does he bother? Why can’t he just keep his mouth shut? He sighs, running a hand through his hair anxiously. “You’re fucking useless.”

“Bi and Useless,” Stan hums, “my two favorite things.” Stan leans over and presses a kiss onto his boyfriend’s smiling lips. Tweek looks away with a frown and slumping shoulders. He lets out a sigh.

He should have never started smoking.

  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> disclaimer: Do not start smoking because of someone else, it is not worth it!


	5. family dinner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty everyone I love you

The immediate moment they drop off Tweek, relief fills him — he finally feels like he can _breathe._ With Tweek around, he feels like he is unable to exhale, holding the air tight in his burning lungs. 

He isn’t sure what it is. 

He thinks it is getting worse.

He needs to make sure to avoid detention for the rest of the week. 

When he finally feels like he can actually _breathe,_ Clyde ruins it by bringing the exact reason for his breathlessness. “Why don’t we hang out with him anymore — I like Tweek. He is spunky.”

Craig twists his eyebrows at the word _spunky._ He gulps. What can he possibly say that will make any sense — that won’t make him seem like some obsessive weirdo. The truth being, _because I liked him too much that it became an obsession_ , and the only way to subdue that obsession was to cut him out of his life completely — _cold turkey._

“I don’t know.” He mumbles, staring out the window. It’s a two minute drive from his house to Tweek’s and yet, he is still stuck with this conversation. His heart speeds up slightly. No one has ever asked him— he has never had to offer an _actual_ reason. In a panic, he mumbles out, “He is weird.” He immediately regrets it after saying it. He is weird but not in the _weird_ way that meant you wouldn’t want to be around him, but in the _weird_ way that made people gravitate towards him. The way he says it though — the way he _intended_ on saying it — came off as mean and loathsome. He doesn’t want to say mean things about Tweek. He has never done anything wrong to him, but talking about him — _thinking_ about him; it just makes all his emotions unwravel. He feels like a complete emotional wreck around Tweek — contrary to how he is on a normal basis — another reason he avoids him.

Clyde is awkward with his response. “Yeah, I guess; part of the reason I like him though.”

Craig winces slightly as he stares out the window. It’s part of the reason he likes him too. _God_. Why is he so weird about Tweek? The next sixty seconds of the car ride reside in silence — a slight tension weighing upon them. 

When Clyde pulls up to his house, putting his car into park, Craig is ready to just _jump_ out and run inside, but then Clyde is asking another question about Tweek. “Did something happen with him? Like… did he fuck you over or something?”

He stares at his friend — concern etched onto his features. Clyde is a good, loyal friend — someone who will have your back through the ends of the earth; will hate someone just because you hate them.

He shakes his head, “no.”

Clyde stares at him, a slight squint in his amber eyes, but nods. “Alright bro, just lemme know; you act kind of funny around him.”

Craig glares at his friend, jaw slightly clenching. “You’re imagining things, Clyde.”

“Alright,” his shoulders shrug slightly, his eyes falling onto the steering wheel, fingers tapping on the leather. 

Craig opens the passenger seat and mumbles out a thank you for the ride. He shuts the door and Clyde gives him a smile, waving and saying goodbye. He just waves, unable and not wanting to smile back. He hears his car start up, zooming away. He sighs, walking into his house with a frown.

* * *

  
  


On Tuesdays, they always have leftovers from Sunday. Eating a meal a third time in a row is always rough — especially when it is meatloaf, making Tuesday’s his least favorite day of the week — both the trouble of being a school day and the _second_ day of leftovers.

To make matters worse, Tricia is at some friend’s house tonight, meaning he is left alone with his parents.

He doesn’t know why they force this tradition of eating together. Most of the time it’s just awkward and forced conversation; his mother providing the latest gossip of the small town, his father responding with a basic grunt and Craig tuning out of the conversation before retaining any information neighbors he does not care about.

Today, though, it’s his father who is divulging in town gossip — and it’s not just some random neighbor, it’s Kenny.

“You know, Craig,” his father starts. “I actually heard something last night I wanted to bring up to you…”

Craig picks his up gaze from his half eaten leftover meatloaf, meeting his father’s gaze cautiously. “What?” He prompts.

His father swallows, scratching his neck slightly and setting his fork down beside his plate. “I hear that McCormick kid you hang around with is, uh…,” he stares at his father, red face and stammering. He looks at his mother who is giving him a scornful look.

“Thomas, I told you not at the dinner table.”

“I just want to _warn_ my boy, Laura!”

_Warn._

Craig sucks in his cheeks, feeling his insides grow heavy as his shoulders sink down. His eyes fall onto the meatloaf. The meatloaf has gone from unappetizing to completely inedible as his stomach conclaves.

“Son, it’s just that… I hear he is _involved_ with Randy Marsh’s boy. Now, I know that boy was with that Testaburger girl for God knows how long — and all I’m saying — this McCormick kid, we always knew he was, eh, kind of… bad news.”

Craig doesn’t look at him. He holds his breath. He feels completely frozen. What the fuck is he even supposed to say?

“I’m just saying, son, maybe you should reconsider who you surround yourself with — he is just a little… fruity, as all…”

“Thomas, now that’s enough,” his mother’s voice is shrill and thrash, the clank of her silverware against the table causing Craig to look up. His mother is frowning, eyebrows narrowed. She exhales sharply through her nose, fixated on his father. 

His father stares back, a straight line on his lips, unapologetic, causing his mother to groan and roll her eyes. She shakes her head and stands up. “I have officially lost my appetite.”

His mother picks up her plate and flees to the kitchen, Craig’s eyes following her, staring at the empty doorway as she disappears. 

“Craig, I’m just saying — all right — I don’t have anything against them, I really don’t.”

_Them._

He finally finds the courage inside himself to meet his father’s gaze.

“But — is it really a _crime_ to not want my son hanging around those types of people?”

_Those types._

Craig cannot muster up words. He just shrugs. He is not going to stop hanging out with Kenny. He knows his father would not actually _mandate_ anything like that. 

He stares down at the meatloaf — disgusted by it; disgusted by everything. He picks up his fork again and stabs it into the meatloaf with a little too much force than necessary. The composure of his face remains the same though as he lets out an even, monotone, “whatever,” ; the conversation coming to an end.

He finishes his meatloaf even though he is far from hungry; more so feeling nauseated. The rest of the dinner folds into uncomfortable silence, his father asking if he is planning to ask anyone to homecoming. He says, maybe Nichole. He nods, saying her father is a good man — the whole time Craig just thinks about what his father said about Kenny.

When he is finished, he brings his plate to the sink, noticing his mother smoking in the backyard through the screen door. He sighs and retreats to his room.

This is not the first time his father has ever expressed his homophobia. He claims he is not homophobic, but it is entirely obvious how he truly feels through his words and actions.

Craig first knew his father was like this when, in seventh grade, Butter’s family sent him to a “summer camp.” When it became known that this summer camp was actually a conversion camp, the whole town went wild with gossip. Most disagreed with the Scotchs’ decision, but there was a seldom few — one of those being his father — that stuck up for the Scoth parents.

His father believed they were just doing what they thought was best for their son — the church taught that it was a sin to be gay, and they were just abiding by the laws of the church. He saw it as something _kind_ they were doing for their son.

He doesn’t know whatever came out of it — if it _changed_ him the way they wanted it to; he doubts it. He never talked to Butters much though so he never asked, and then he was sent away to boarding school in ninth grade; leaving him completely clueless of whether or not his conversation therapy actually worked.

Part of him wants to text him and ask — _did you really stop having those feelings after going to that camp for two months?_ But that would be weird. They don’t talk and that was a long time ago.

He lays in bed — staring up at his ceiling. How did his parents even _know_ he was gay? Did they catch him with someone? Did Butters come out to them? Did they just _suspect_ it?

He doesn’t know what makes it obvious if someone is gay or not but the thought of that stresses him out — can someone _know_ just by looking at you? It can’t possibly be that simple. They can’t just _know._

He feels like he is sinking. He just wants to pull the covers over himself and never come out. He feels terrified and he has no idea why — it all feels heavy and overbearing. The thought of asking Nichole out to homecoming sounds like such an immense amount of effort; just the thought of dancing with her and spending the entire night by her side. He knows it should not be like that — he should be excited. She is pretty and nice and smart, and _likes_ him, but yet, he feels absolutely nothing but dread and he has not even asked her yet.

Why can’t he just be like Clyde — obsessed with girls and sex, jumping with joy over a night with an attractive female? Instead, there is something _wrong_ with him — forcing himself to go on dates with girls because it’s the normal thing to do and he does not want anyone to suspect him of being anything but normal — desperately trying to find the _one_ girl who might ignite something inside him that just seems to be _missing._

He sighs.

He just wishes all this homecoming stuff was over with, along with the rest of high school.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When he arrives to school the next day — meeting up with Kenny in the AV room as usual, Kenny bombards him with news.

“I have good and bad news, Tucker.”

Craig just stares at him — _really_ not in the mood for any Kenny McCormick antics.

“What.” He deadpans, glaring at the dirty blonde.

“Gee, this is the reason I love you — you’re always so cheery in the morning,” he smirks. Craig looks away, rolling his eyes. Kyle and Stan are animatedly discussing something across the room. He doesn’t spot Nichole — sometimes it will just be Nichole or Stan, and someone else — this time, Kyle, probably promoting the football game on Friday or something.

“Kenny, I’m not in the mood.”

“You’re never in the mood.”

“Well, I’m even less in the mood than usual.”

He hasn’t been able to shake his bad mood since dinner — all through the evening, he just felt like he had an unmovable weight on his chest.

Kenny stares a moment. He is unable to read the expression, never the one to be good with that kind of stuff. “Are you, like, okay?” He asks.

“I’m fucking fantastic, okay?” He shakes his head, letting out a small exhale through his nose — settling his eyes onto the table Kyle and Stan will soon occupy.

“Okay…,” Kenny mumbles. “ _Well…_ I really do have news.”

“What is it?” Craig asks, not looking at him.

“You want the good or bad first?”

He shrugs. “Bad, I guess.”

“Okay. Well, they counted the ballots and we know the winners. Mr. Roy asked if we would take a few shots of the winners after school today — you know, hear what they have to say — give them an opportunity to why people should vote for them.”

Craig honestly doesn’t mind this. He doesn’t really feel like going home. “Okay. What’s the other news?”

“You are one of the nominees!” Kenny exclaims, beaming at him.

He blinks. Apparently Nichole was right. “Oh,” he murmurs. “Cool.”

“ _Cool_?” Kenny refrains. He waves him off, rolling his eyes. “God, you don’t deserve this.”

“No, I don’t,” he agrees. “Who else won?”

“You, Token, and a few seniors for the guys,” Kenny lists. Craig thinks of Clyde — God, he is probably going to cry. “And Wendy, Bebe, and some senior girls for the girls.”

Craig eyes Stan from across the room. “Your boyfriend didn’t win? That’s shocking.”

Kenny shrugs. “Wendy is out to get him, dude — can’t handle that he likes my cock more than her tits now.”

Craig cringes, looking down. He shakes his head, “gross, dude.”

“Tits or cock?”

A sinking feeling forms in his stomach as his face goes bright red. “ _What?”_ His voice is slightly higher than usual.

Kenny laughs and pats his back. “I’m just kidding. I personally love both though.”

His hand falls. Craig just gulps and stares at his fallen hand. He stands there motionless for a moment, clenching his jaw slightly. He suddenly regains his composure and _glares_ at his friend. “I’m not a fucking _fag,_ Kenny.”

Kenny’s eyebrows jump up. He takes a step back. “Woah, dude, I was just joking.”

“Well, I told you,” he grits through his teeth, “I’m not in the mood today.”

Kenny stares at him, hurt and wounded. Guilt ripples through him, but he pushes the feeling down, along with the rest. “Whatever, dude — talk to me when you’re no longer this much of a dick.” 

Kenny drifts away, hovering to Stan and Kyle — an immediate smile replacing the previous wounded look his face as Stan wraps an arm around him.

He stares a moment before looking down with a frown. He sucks in a breath before turning around and exiting the AV room. Kenny can handle the cameras himself. He can’t be in here right now.

He walks through the halls — not sure where to go. He turns the corner and stomach sinks deeper as he stares straight ahead into the eyes of Tweek Tweak. 

_God_ , he cannot catch a break — a fucking _third_ time running into him. When will it end?

He is about to just keep walking — pretend the acknowledgment between them was nonexistent but then Tweek is speaking.

“Hey… are you okay?”

Craig does not look at him but stops in his step. He stares intensely at the tile floor, feeling his whole body tense. “No! I’m not fucking okay! Please just fucking _stop_ talking to me.” He doesn’t mean to shout the words, but he does. The corner of his eyes sting.

He can’t even _look_ at Tweek’s reaction; knowing it is one of pure hurt and defeat. He is such an asshole. He marches away, unwilling to stick around for whatever comes out of his old friend’s mouth.

He disappears around the corner of the hall, and out of the exit of the school — deciding to just skip it all together, unable to to beat it any longer.

  
  



	6. what is up with craig?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you SO much for the support :,) it means SO much to me. ILY ALL!

**Tweek:** Craig just totally blew up at me!!!

**Kenny:** don’t feel special, he was a dick to me too

**Tweek:** rly?? What happened??? He isn’t in class

**Kenny:** I’ll tell u later

  
  


Tweek stares at the clock anxiously, every now and then, glancing at the door as if Craig Tucker is going to make his grand entrance.

It’s stupid.

He was just a giant dick to him, and yet, he is just sitting here, _worried_ about the guy — the stupid fucking guy who lashes out at him just for asking how he is doing. God, he is always such a dick when he is emotional, which is why Tweek _knows_ he is upset. He only loses control of his emotions when something is _really_ bothering him.

It’s funny how well you get to know someone when you were once in love with them — it’s like every fucking detail is engraved into your memory, every conversation deemed pivotal. 

Craig was always a stoic, stone-faced kid. He always envied this about him. Tweek was completely transparent; his emotions and feelings written all over his face. He often wonders if _this_ is what ended their friendship — maybe Craig figured out his massive crush on him, and thought it would be best to step away. 

Tweek sort of has a million theories.

Craig does not want him involved in his life. He _literally_ just said as much, and honestly, Tweek knows it would be best if he did, in fact, just stay out of it — if he just moved on from today with no acknowledgement of Craig Tucker in mind, as if he just ceased to exist; the conversation — more so _confrontation_ — just a dissolving moment in his life.

But it’s not that easy.

No, of course, he will think about Craig for the entirety of class, and maybe even _day_ — wondering if the stupid bastard is okay.

His teacher drones on about The Boston Tea Party. Tweek is sure he is going to fail this portion of the test next week if he doesn’t go over it later — which is probably won’t, so yeah, he probably will fail this portion of the test.

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


Between the first and second period, Tweek finds Kenny at his locker.

Without as much as a hello, Tweek says, “what did Craig say to you?”

“Jesus, Tweek,” Kenny shakes his head slightly, closing his locker and locking eyes with him. “Hello, to you, too.”

“Come on, Kenny — we don’t have much time. What did he say?”

“Well. I made a joke, right? I said Stan likes my cock more than Wendy’s tits now,” Tweek wrinkles his nose up in dismay, “and, well, Craig said _gross_ and I said, what part? And then Craig got all super pissy about it — said, and I quote, _I’m not a fag, Kenny.”_

Tweek winces, frowning. “Dick.”

“Right?”

“You are too though!”

Kenny frowns. “Are you serious, dude? What did I do?”

“If you know he is questioning his sexuality, why are you making jokes about it!”

Kenny rolls his eyes. “Come on — are you _serious?_ You cannot blame me for him being a _dick._ _”_

“I’m not! You both were dicks.”

Kenny glares at him, “how the fuck was I supposed to expect that to happen? I make jokes all the time; I’m sure it’s not the first time I’ve said something like that to him, he was just… _angry_ today.”

Tweek frowns. 

“The bell is gonna ring soon — I got to get to home ec., we’ll talk later,” he sets a couple fingers on his wrist. Tweek makes eye contact with him for a brief moment before Kenny offers a small smile and goes on his way.

Tweek bites the inside of his cheek as he heads to his second period. Could Craig really be _gay_ — is that what this is about? He can’t be — it’s just … _coincidence_ , right?

* * *

Second period consists of Chemistry.

His partner in Chemistry is Kyle.

Kyle is smart and knows what he is doing, therefore doesn’t mind that Tweek is completely unfocused; on another planet and definitely _not_ in this Chemistry lab. Kyle does all the work most of the time anyways — always taking charge because he thinks he is smarter than everyone and fears they will mess up the grade.

Kyle starts making small talk with him about homecoming after they complete their lab and lab worksheet— the rest of the class is still struggling to complete it while Kyle and Tweek are cleaning up.

“Are you going with anyone?” Kyle asks.

Tweek actually _laughs_ a little at this. 

“Seeming that the only gay kids I know of in this school are dating one another and the other is my ex-boyfriend — no, probably not.”

Kyle offers a sympathetic smile. “I’m sure there are others — statistically, there has to be.”

Tweek stares at him blankly. “That’s… _reassuring…,_ ” he decides, wiping the table with a Lysol Wipe — the smell reminding him of his Tweak Bro’s. His stomach twists. He throws the wipe away into the nearby trash can. “Are you going with anyone?” Tweek looks at Kyle.

He frowns. “I thought of asking Heidi, but fucking Cartman — I don’t know what the fuck he said to her, but I think she hates me now? And likes him?” Kyle shakes his head, face red. “And then I was planning to ask Nichole, but from what I hear, Craig is asking her, and apparently she is _really_ excited about it — at least that’s what Wendy says.”

He stares, trying to process all the information in his head. The mention of Craig sort of short circuited his brain. “I mean, he hasn’t _asked_ her yet, why don’t you just do it?”

Kyle shakes his head. “Tweek, I don’t think you understand, the girls — they basically run everything — get whatever they want. If they want Craig to go with Nichole, it’s gonna happen.”

Tweek just furrows his eyebrows. He will never understand girls.

“You talk to Wendy?”

Kyle shrugs. “We are all on student council together, and we kind of have to talk.”

Tweek looks away. He really wants Kyle to ask Nichole. “That is stupid — you should ask who you want to go with.”

There is a pause.

“You’re right,” he nods. “I’m going to talk to Heidi — figure out whatever that fatass said about me and set the record straight. Heidi is smart, I’m sure she will believe me.”

Tweek feels like hitting himself in the face. Instead, he tugs slightly at his hair. With a quiet sigh to his words, he says, “yeah, yeah you should. Heidi is nice. She deserves someone better than Cartman.”

Kyle smiles, nodding. “Thanks, Tweek. I’m glad we had this talk.”

Tweek offers a half-smile. At least he made _someone_ feel better.

* * *

  
  


Third period is English with Kenny, meaning he can _actually_ talk to him — hopefully.

He gets to class early. Kenny is not there yet. He shows up one minute before the bell.

Before he even sits down, Tweek is immediately back on the topic of Craig.

“He told me to stop fucking talking to him, Kenny, he fucking hates me,” he sits on the edge of his seat, fiddling with his hands.

“He was just being a _dick_ — he doesn’t.”

“He _does,_ and I’m worried about him. He skipped school and he seemed really, really upset.”

Kenny gives him a pointed look. “I’m sure he is _fine._ He is Craig. He has skipped school before, and he is always in a bad mood.”

“He only loses control of his emotions like that when he is really upset!”

“Then talk to him,” Kenny states, giving him a pointed look.

“I can’t! Did you not just hear what I said? He said to stop talking to him!”

Kenny sighs. “Tweek, Craig and I don’t have a relationship like that. We don’t talk about our feelings — I do it with _you,_ I do it with _Stan,_ I do it with _Kyle_ … _shit,_ I’ve even done it with _Cartman_ , but Craig?” Kenny’s voice trails as he shrugs. “Never. Not once.”

Tweek deflates. Their teacher stands up from her desk and opens a PowerPoint on the projector.

“I can’t talk to him, _Kenny —_ can you please just _try —_ I really think he needs someone right now!”

Kenny stares at him, his shoulders sinking and face falling. “I’ll _try…_ but if he is a dick to me again, dude, I swear to God, you _owe_ me.”

* * *

After school, and interviewing the homecoming court _alone_ , Kenny walks to Craig’s house. 

He has texted the dude, but gotten no answer.

He knocks on the door and is met with Thomas Tucker, staring down at him with a face between annoyance and disgust.

“Is Craig home?”

“He is — but he is _not_ coming out; he is grounded. He skipped school today.”

“Uh, yeah — I know,” Kenny mumbles. “I couldn’t reach him. I have his homework…” he lies.

Thomas gives him a pointed look, eyebrows pushed inward. He puts out his hand, “all right, I’ll give it to him.”

Kenny smacks his lips together. _Fuck_. He scratches the back of his neck. “Well, I sort of have to explain things to him…,” he stammers out awkwardly, not meeting his gaze.

Thomas glares down at him, shaking his head. “Get off my porch, McCormick.”

He shuts the door in his face. Kenny sighs. 

The whole Tucker family is a bunch of assholes.

He texts Tweek.

**Kenny:** tried to talk to him but got no answer over text and his dad wouldn’t let me see him

**Kenny:** it’s not too late for you to be the one to talk to him

**Tweek:** I can’t!!!! U know I can’t!! 

**Kenny:** ugh fine 

* * *

He lays in his room — condemned to his room, as if that is such a _punishment._ He rather be in his room than with his family anyways.

His parents took away his phone after finding out he skipped — the school called them.

His mother came home early from work and scolded him, taking his phone away for the rest of the day as punishment. When his _father_ came home, he suggested they take it away until Saturday. 

What his parents _don’t_ know is that he can just talk to his friends via other outlets, such as the outdated Facebook or through his Xbox — he even gets a game in with Clyde — talking over his mic with him about his day missed at school; Clyde filling him in on Bebe’s mini skirt and his interest in Annie, whom he thinks he might ask to homecoming. Craig thinks she kind of looks like Bebe, but he keeps that to himself.

He gets a game invite from Kenny, along with a chat.

_Hey dude, tried texting u, is everything all right with you?_

He stares at the message in annoyance. He just wants it all to go away — wants to pretend this morning never happened; doesn’t want to think about lashing out at Kenny, and then Tweek. He just wants to play video games and block out the rest of the world.

He messages back:

_Why wouldn’t it be?_

Kenny’s response is fast:

_You seemed upset idk and then u skipped school_

Craig stares at the message. 

_Yeah? So?_

Kenny responds with:

_Idk…. Nothing_

He plays the game with him, ignoring the knotting pit in his stomach and all the feelings of dread that come with it.

* * *

The morning is met with Kenny staring at him like he is a fucking mural or something. He glares at him, says _what_ and Kenny shrugs in response.

“Feeling any better today?”

“What are you talking about,” he deadpans, not even bothering to look at him.

A small sigh emits from Kenny’s mouth. “ _Dude_ . Come on, why are you … ,” he groans. There is a pause that follows. Craig hopes it is over. But it is not. “Look,” Kenny inhales deeply, “be a dick to me — _whatever_ — I’ll be a fucking dick back to you, but don’t be a dick to Tweek. He just _cares_ about you and he doesn’t deserve that.”

Before Craig can make a response, Kenny is stomping off to his boyfriend. Craig just stares.

_What?_

Stan and Nichole dive into school news; announcing the homecoming nominees; something Craig has completely forgotten about until now.

They announce the homecoming court, his name included, and then cut to video Kenny presumably took without him yesterday afternoon. He glances at Kenny as the video starts up. Kenny sends him a glare, arms crossed. He just brushes it off and looks away.

He thinks of Tweek; what he said to him. He feels guilt flood through the bottom of his stomach. He knew what he said was _mean_ but he didn’t think it was mean enough to have him confine Kenny about it. 

His eyes are on the video playing but he is in no way paying attention.

The video ends and it cuts back to Stan and Nichole. Stan is smiling at the camera, “and there you have it! Unfortunately, Craig was unavailable yesterday afternoon for an interview but,” he makes eye contact with Craig from across the room. “He is actually here right now! Craig, get over here — say something to the lovely student body.”

Craig glares at the other noirette, sure his cheeks are at least pink and more likely crismon. He sluggishly walks over in front of the camera, trying to not look directly at it.

“Anything you have to say to the student body?”

He pulls down his hat slightly over his forehead and glances at the camera. He shrugs. “Not really.”

“Craig Tucker, ladies and gentlemen,” Stan claps with a grin. Nichole giggles, briefly making eye contact with him. He averts his gaze and looks down — walking back to his post; he glances at Kenny. He is just stone faced. Man, he must actually be pissed at him.

Stan abids farewell to the student body, along with Nichole — the cameras shutting off.

He lets out a deep breath.

“Marsh, fuck you,” he calls out to him.

Stan just smirks at him, snickering, floating towards his boyfriend. Kenny still looks mad. He exhales through his nose and stares at the ground, making his way out of the confined room but someone taps him on the shoulder.

He turns around.

Nichole.

She is smiling.

“That was really something,” she laughs. “When you said you didn’t care about this — you really meant it.”

He shrugs. “I told you. Should have gone with Stan, or something.”

Her smile doesn’t falter. “A lot of girls like the indifference. You don’t realize that fuels them to only like you more.”

He frowns. He _know_ s, he just doesn’t _get_ it. He adjusts his hat slightly. “Uh, do _you_ like that?” He feels himself flush. If he is going to ask Nichole, he better should _soon._

She giggles, shrugging. “I don’t know, I kind of think it might be an act.”

“It’s not an act,” he argues. “I don’t even know how that would work. People just think what they think. I never claimed to not care about anything.”

“What _do_ you care about then?” She ponders.

For some reason he thinks of Tweek — of what Kenny said and the thought of Tweek being upset because of him. He swallows. “My guinea pig.”

Nichole giggles again. She brushes her hand on his shoulder. “I think you’re a lot sweeter than people give you credit for, Craig Tucker.”

With one last smile, she strides past him and to the door. He watches her a moment before moving himself. She wears a pale yellow sweater and light denim jeans. She is cute — objectively has a great body shape. She is sweet and kind, and _yet._

_Sigh._

He makes his way out the door and to his first period — taking slow, sluggish steps — knowing Tweek will be there; further weighing on his guilty conscience.

When he arrives to class, Tweek is already there. His eyes flick up at him for less than a second before hurriedly glancing away. He gulps. He takes his seat two seats behind him, eyes on the back of his head.

Before he can get too deep into self pity and guilt; the classroom speaker goes off.

“Craig Tucker please report to the principal office. Craig Tucker.”

A few classmates react to the interruption with giggles and _ooooh’s_. He ignores them as he stands up. On his way out, he makes another brief eye contact with Tweek — his eyes wide and startled. Tweek is once again the one to break eye contact, head tilting down.

He swallows, exiting the classroom.

The empty hallways are reassuring — subduing him. He drags his feet, making sure to take the longest possible route to the principal's office in the slowest possible strides.

He already knows what is waiting for him.

When he enters the room, the curly, red headed secretary gives him a sympathetic smile. “She is ready for you Craig.” He nods and makes his way to her office, knocking against it lightly.

She calls out, “come in!”

Craig opens the door and takes a seat in one of the uncomfortable chairs that probably have not been replaced in the last fifteen years. Principle Victoria looks _annoyed._ She lets out a small sigh, setting her clasped hands on the desk. “Starting out the school year bad, Mr. Tucker.”

“It’s… like a month in almost,” he mumbles, staring at the ground.

“Excuse me, Mr. Tucker?” 

He lifts her head up, meeting her pointed stare. He shrugs. “I mean… I made it this far into the school year without skipping.”

She shakes her head, clicking her tongue. “Tucker, Tucker, Tucker…,” she opens some folder on her desk. She glances down at it. “You know you skipped eight times last year?” she asks.

He shrugs. “No, I don’t really keep track.”

Another aggravated sigh escapes the principle’s mouth as she shuts the folder. “I am not going to keep let you off like this. I was considering to take away your homecoming nomination, but then I would be punishing student council, making them recount all the ballots. I would be punishing them, and not you. It’s clear you are indifferent to all this from the news this morning.”

He just stares blankly.

“So,” she inhales. “I’ve decided that I will instead give you two weeks detention.” She decrees, “ _please_ do not make a habit out of this, this year or there _will_ be bigger consequences.”

Craig stares. “Okay… so, I’m free to go?”

She gives him a pointed stare. “ _Yes._ Get back to class, Mr. Tucker. You have missed enough.”

Craig steps up and leaves her office — passing the smiling receptionist on the way out; being told to _have a great day!_

He just ignores her, not in the mood to talk.

_Detention._ It’s the last thing he wanted. Last time he skipped school, Principle Victoria suspended him for three days — but he supposes it’s a new school year, and with a new school year, comes a blank slate.

_God dammit._

At least Tweek is done with detention after tomorrow afternoon.


	7. detention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ty all so much for reading and for the support; bookmarking, comments, kudos, hits ~ everything; it means a lot!
> 
> fun fact: wrote first part of this last night when I SHOULD have been sleeping and the second part during an online meeting for my 💫internship💫 my priorities are /not there/ 😊

In third grade, he spent a great deal of time with Tweek Tweak; spending three days beside him in the same hospital room, just feet away. 

At first, it was awkward; at first, he  _ hated  _ him, for mostly reasons he didn't quite understand. Even after being told they were coerced into the fight by those douchebags, there was just  _ something _ between them — a  _ rivalry _ , perhaps. He was sure it was going to be a rivalry, but then he realized, under full extent, just how kind and sweet Tweek was..

Things were tense between them — sitting in silence beside each other, eating crappy hospital jello; the only sounds being the ones of Tweek Tweak’s weird tics and hospital machines. 

Craig had made a comment to the nurse about the distasteful jello. She said something “ _ annoying _ ” in response, and Craig flipped her off. Tweek laughed. When he glanced over at him, he was looking down. Their eyes briefly met for a moment. and Tweek once again, went rampant with a fit of giggles; Craig couldn’t help it, he laughed along with him.

But it wasn’t until Tweek was flipping through the channels on the crappy television screen, landing on  _ Red Racer _ , that Craig knew a rivalry between them was obsolete. Tweek looked over at him with a semi-soft smile and said, “you really like this show, right?”

Craig nodded, uncommitted, and Tweek set the remote down — keeping it on. If it were  _ him _ , he would have said  _ too bad  _ and kept switching through the channels, indifferent to Tweek’s wishes, but Tweek was not like him — he was sweet and kind, even when you didn’t deserve it.

  
  
  


He stares at him now — in detention — wondering _ why  _ he lashed out on him — as if any of his problems actually came because of Tweek. He wishes he could convey it through telepathy — send him the message to not blame himself for the outburst, but Craig’s. It is just Craig’s fault — Craig is the angry, hostile,  _ jerk  _ who everyone thinks is so  _ cool  _ because he is  _ so  _ standoffish, when in reality, he just has no idea how to talk to people.

He should know how to talk to Tweek; know the way in which he can apologize and really relay the message, but as he stares at the back of his head — the way his blonde hair curls at the nape of his neck, and how his shoulders jerk ever so often, he knows that whatever he has to say will not be good enough. He will  _ try  _ to apologize but it will all just come out wrong.

He should just do him the favor and leave him alone. He probably would be better off. He should just stop being friends with Kenny and Tweek; let them be friends, and not poison them with his shitty attitude towards absolutely anything. While he is at it, why doesn’t he just stop being friends with Token and Clyde too — he doesn’t deserve any of them, honestly.

Clyde wouldn’t stop talking today about how  _ jealous  _ he is that  _ Craig  _ is nominated for homecoming court — says he needs to “ _ share the puss. _ ”

Okay, actually, maybe he deserves Clyde.

It’s funny. He thought that winning this nomination would mean something to him but he is still deep in this bad,  _ bad  _ mood. He keeps it in his head — tries to remain level with those around him; was mostly quiet during lunch with Token and Clyde, but that’s how it is most of the time, anyways.

Clyde was too focused on his envy to notice anything, and Token was too busy scolding him for ditching school. His friends, like the rest of the school, have this idea of him, that he is just  _ fine,  _ that him being quiet and distant is his  _ normal.  _ Maybe it is, maybe he is sort of always in a bad mood — but this is different. It is deep and pricks at his insides; not going away, and for whatever reason, just becoming worse whenever he looks up at the back of Tweek’s head, and sees Kenny with Stan.

He finished his dumb essay for detention thirty minutes ago. Now, he is “working on homework,” but nothing has been done — it just sits in front of him. He is smart. He  _ knows  _ he is, but his apathy always wins out. He still does mostly fine in school, even with the immense amount of indifference and incomplete assignments, but he knows they all are right — he has  _ potential.  _ Hell, maybe he could even be as smart as Token — maybe. Probably not. But  _ maybe _ .

But it doesn’t matter because he cannot find it in himself to give a shit about school. Whenever he tries, he just always ends up going back to his old ways. He just much rather watch anime or play video games than do algebra problems.

He looks up at Tweek.

Tweek is different. He has to try  _ so  _ hard in school just to do okay. It’s  _ hard  _ for him. He thinks it does not help that he keeps everything extremely disorganized — his backpack always a disaster and papers falling out of all folders. He used to help Tweek with his homework, and he actually did not  _ mind  _ doing homework in those moments. Tweek actually  _ wanted  _ to do well, he just did not believe he could, therefore always giving up before really trying. 

Craig’s grades were  _ better  _ when Tweek was his friend — when they sat in Harbucks because neither of them wanted to be at home — and Craig would explain algebra formulas and ways to remember the layers of the atmosphere. Tweek made him  _ better.  _

He always has, and yet, he has done nothing in return for him. He yells at him in the hallway and can’t find it in himself to apologize— even though he knows he  _ should _ . He sucks with words; he is terrible with emotions and feelings. Maybe it’s his family. Maybe it’s just  _ him,  _ but affection has never come easy for him.

So he just stares at Tweek, hoping he somehow  _ knows  _ he doesn’t actually hate him; he is just a huge dick. But he knows Tweek too well to believe in this imaginative theory — Tweek is most likely completely off the wall about it; fully convinced that Craig not only hates him, but is planning ways to ruin his life further. He frowns. 

Detention ends and he watches Tweek gather his things and go. He cannot find it in himself to follow him — frozen and absolutely useless to normal, human emotion. 

He packs up his stuff, feeling the multitude of self hatred weigh upon him as he does so. He still does not have his phone — his parents deciding on Saturday to be the day that he gets it back.

He could probably still catch up to Tweek, he thinks, as he leaves the room. His legs barely inch forward though; intending to stay behind in order not see him on the walk home — considering they both go in the same direction.

The hallways of the school are quiet — empty and still. The school janitor is mopping. He gives Craig a distasteful look, as if he is angry for ruining his freshly mopped floors. Craig gets it. He is even an asshole to this janitor.

He ducks his head down and makes his ways through the empty hallways, and out of the school. The weather is crisp and cold — one the colder days of late September; the promise of winter ahead. Craig adjusts his hat on top of his head so it more so covers his ears.

It is cold but he does not rush home — in no way,  _ eager,  _ to see his family; his mother who is seemingly always annoyed or upset with his father, yet never making any plans to leave him; his father, whose conservative and judgemental views never fail to be said; Tricia, whom he somehow likes the  _ most _ , but still provides to be a giant nusauce on his life.

The walk home is  _ cold.  _ He shivers and wraps his arms around his body in a pathetic attempt to warm himself, but he does not feel much better when he steps inside his house.

His father is still at work, or maybe the bar, who knows, but his mother is smoking in the backyard and Tricia is blasting music in her room.

He hurries up the steps, bangs on his little sister’s door and shouts, “turn the fucking music down.”

She opens the door, looks him up and down, and crosses her arms. He notices behind her is Karen McCormick. He briefly wonders if his father also gave her the talk about the McCormicks, or if he doesn’t think sexual orientation is infectious across the family. Knowing him though, he most likely does. If he was closer with Tricia, maybe he would ask.

“Just because  _ you’re  _ grounded and pissed off, doesn’t mean you have to take it out on me.”

“Hi, Craig!” Karen waves behind his sister.

He actually smiles a little bit. “Hey Karen,” he holds up a hand.

Tricia rolls her eyes and shuts the door.

He shakes his head and retreats to his room — immediately setting down in his gaming chair to play his Xbox and see any possible messages. He has a plethora from Clyde; who is clearly dying under the inability to contact him at all times.

**_Clyde_ ** **:**

_ Dude. DUDE. Bebe and her boyfriend JUST broke up _

_ Dude. Should I ask her to homecoming? _

_ Or should I ask Annie and make her jelly? _

_ Fuck. Dude. Idk what to do! U think Bebe would say yes? _

_ When r u asking Nichole _

_ Fuck it’s coming up so soon _

_ How r u even asking her _

_ I am thinking if it’s Bebe then I will bring a boom box to her house. I’ll use my dad’s and then I’ll make a recording of me singing the line, “will you go to homecoming with me?” And then I’ll play that one song from that movie around that _

_ U think she’d say yea? _

_ That’s romantic right _

_ Craig omg get ur phone back _

_ When r u getting it back _

_ This is ridiculous. This is the most important part of our lives dude. Ur parents r wack _

_ U think Bebe would say yes or no, be honest _

Craig sighs.

Honestly?

Bebe will probably say no — has repeatedly told Clyde that she does not want to get back together or have anything to do with him, at all, really. He thinks Clyde has selective memory — blocking out the dozen of times Bebe has rejected him previously.

**_Craig_ ** **:**

_ Dude don’t ask her _

_ You’re just gonna get hurt  _

Clyde is offline though, and because he does not have a phone — he cannot reach out to him in another way. He is not really sure if he even would. Clyde is a dumbass and there is no stopping that.

He starts an online game, ignoring the forgotten homework in his backpack; briefly thinking of Tweek and the better influence he is — how much of a better person he is than himself. He pushes the thought away; hoping that all these feelings disappear with the leaves on the trees.

  
  


…

He feels Craig staring at him. He does not dare look back but he  _ knows  _ he is staring. Or maybe it is in his head. Who knows, but he definitely wants him gone. 

Detention is  _ his  _ territory and Tweek is invading it. Just because Tweek has been here the last two weeks, does not mean anything. This is Craig’s domain — spending more days in detention than  _ not.  _ He is invading his space — appearing in his life when he most obviously does not want him in it.

It pricks at his insides, and yet, he still is worried about him. He looks normal — he always looks the same; a stony expression, his deep blue eyes narrowed and focused on nothing in particular. He gets why all the girls like him so much — he is similar to the mysterious  _ Edward Cullen.  _ He knows if he told Craig this, he would definitely hate him more, but that’s how Tweek sees it.

Tweek knows there are more layers to him though — under that stoic expression and mysterious persona — is just a big nerd. He often wonders if these girls knew this, if they would still like him. They  _ should.  _ The  _ real  _ Craig is honestly better than the one on the surface. 

But maybe he doesn’t even know the  _ real  _ Craig anymore. It has only been about a year and a half since they stopped being friends. They were sort of friends freshman year still, but barely — that’s when they  _ stopped,  _ when everything between them came to an end. By the end of the year, they didn’t even  _ talk. _

Sophomore year was  _ completely _ void of Craig Tucker. The universe seemed to want to keep them apart. He did not share a single class with Craig, nor lunch. The only time he would ever see him was when they were each by their lockers — close due to their lockers being arranged in alphabetical order.

So, maybe he  _ doesn’t  _ really know Craig anymore.

He has changed a lot since they were friends.

He dated Pete. Became good friends with Kenny. Came out to Kenny, and a few others. Worked at Harbucks. Got  _ fired  _ from Harbucks. Started smoking weed. Started smoking  _ cigarettes.  _ Got dumped by the boy he started smoking cigarettes  _ for.  _ Stopped talking to his parents; occasionally speaking with his mother, and almost never his father.

Not in that order.

He has changed and he feels like Craig may have to — he supposes that is life; people changing, but why does that have to mean Craig  _ hates  _ him?

Kenny says he doesn’t.

He shared with him that Craig did not want to talk about his feelings — making sure to deliver it sarcastically, and with an “ _ I told you so” _ attitude. Kenny keeps telling him to speak with him, but he  _ can’t.  _ He just cannot do it — Craig specifically asked him  _ not  _ to. If he talks to him, he is just going to upset him  _ more. _

So, instead, he just sits at his desk, works on the essay he has written thirteen times now on why smoking on school grounds is  _ bad  _ and why he should follow school rules. After finishing, he pulls out his homework but does not complete any of it — too caught up in the presence of Craig, even if he is behind him and can’t see him.

He watches the clock — watches as the time ticks by, waiting to get out of this crowded room — filled with both Pete and Craig; two boys who have both broken his heart.

Well, maybe Pete really didn’t.

Which is sad.

Considering he  _ actually  _ dated Pete, and everything with Craig just happened in his head, but with Craig it was much worse. In fact, it still kind of stings.

When detention is over, he quickly packs up his things and makes his exit; the  _ sting  _ becoming more of an  _ ache. _

He walks away from the room — from Craig Tucker — but he knows that this does not mean much, the ache will follow him, follow him home and into his bed, keeping him up late at night; wondering why he can’t let him go after years of trying to. 

The ache is not going away — in fact, it is only getting stronger.

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually really liked this chapter? so I’m really interested in your thoughts. it was prob my fave chapter in awhile! cant believe it’s already ch 7 on this tbh what


	8. windy day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty all for the lovely support throughout this :,) ily
> 
> I literally have a huge paper due but I literally wrote this instead :,) 
> 
> I suck :)

Craig keeps his head down during the morning announcements. He. internally debates if he should just go up to Kenny, and pretend nothing happened. Kenny is not the type to hold a grudge — he is friends with  _ Cartman _ . Craig could go up to him, say, “good morning,” and things would return to normal.

He  _ doesn’t  _ do that though — feeling a little too ashamed of his actions, but still not having it in him to apologize. So, instead, he just keeps his head down — ignores the laughter humming from Kenny and his boyfriend across the room, along with the sinking feeling in his chest.

The morning announcements are short — the mention of the school bonfire to kick off Spirit Week happening on Sunday. Craig is not sure he will go — if he is allowed to go, considering he is grounded,  _ indefinitely. _

He watches Nichole — she seems less peppy today. He is not sure what it is. He is not exactly good at reading people but normally she puts off a lot more bubbly vibe, instead, today coming more off like …  _ Craig _ .

He gulps. When is he going to ask her out? He keeps forgetting about it — pushing it off. It’s not like he can just go up to her and ask. He at least owes her flowers or something.

After Stan and Nichole sign off, he walks up to her. For some reason, finding comfort in their small conversations before the school day. With Nichole, he does not owe an apology — well, not yet. He is sure he will end up doing something to piss her off, eventually.

“Hey, Nichole,” he greets.

She gives him a half-smile. “Hey, Craig.” Her voice is breathy — almost as if she is speaking in sighs.

He does not know where to go from here; suddenly feeling stupid for coming up to her. He smacks his lips together. “Are you going to that bonfire?”

She shrugs one shoulder. She is putting papers into her folder. “Probably. I am not entirely sure yet. Are you?” She meets his gaze.

He shrugs back. “I don’t know. I might be …  _ grounded _ ?”

“That’s too bad. It’s usually pretty fun.”

He thinks of last year. He and Clyde got drunk beforehand. Token found out and scolded them both for it. A little while later, giving up the holier-than-thou act, and taking a couple sips from Clyde’s flask himself. In all honesty, the annual bonfire  _ is  _ pretty fun. They set a huge fire and just watch it burn — Craig likes to imagine the fire spreading to the school, swallowing it whole.

“Yeah. So, what’s your excuse?”

She looks away. She inhales. “I don’t know — Sometimes I just feel like I need a break from this whole high school stuff, you know?” She meets his gaze again. She is frowning.

He knows  _ exactly  _ what she means. Without breaking eye contact, he says, “yeah, yeah… I  _ definitely  _ get that.”

She offers a smile, but it is different from her other smiles. It just seems void; void of the things a smile should be. It’s  _ fake _ , but not in the way of someone who is pretending to like you… more so of someone who is pretending to be  _ happy _ . She rises to her feet, folder pressed to her chest. She nods at Craig. “I gotta get to class.”

He nods back. She walks away and he watches her go, feeling the same unexplained disappointment as he did the other day.

* * *

American History is brutal.

He spends most of the time trying to not think about Tweek, but it is hard when he is two desks ahead of him. 

Maybe he could ask the teacher to switch seats — ask to sit in the front of the classroom to avoid the sight of Tweek Tweak and his backpack full of pins and buttons; of that little, stupid pride flag button that grabs his attention every class period.

If he was talking to Kenny, he could ask him — ask him if Tweek is  _ gay  _ or  _ bi  _ or something other than hetrosexual, but the thought of even asking that — even while on speaking terms — seems like a bad idea. Kenny would probably make some joke about it. He already made a joke previously with the same underlying innuendo. He does not want to fuel him further. 

Maybe Token knows — he thinks they still talk on occasion.

And Token won’t think anything of it.

Or will he?

Maybe he just shouldn’t ask. It would be weird. He doesn’t even  _ talk  _ to Tweek. He just won’t ask anyone. He will mind his own business and forget about Tweek Tweak, and his little pride flag.

Try to, at least.

* * *

College Algebra with Trigonometry is not much better.

Clyde asked Bebe to homecoming, and surprisingly, she said yes. 

Craig is happy for his friend, and even  _ happier _ that he is good at hiding his emotions because he is  _ shocked.  _ Bebe has rejected him countless times now, and she says  _ yes _ to homecoming? Even Craig knows how big of a deal that is.

It’s weird. And honestly, Craig does not really trust her. He thinks the whole thing is a tad fishy; his best friend is about to get his heart broken, again.

But he is so happy now — happier than he would be with a homecoming court nomination, and Craig cannot destroy that happiness. Clyde sort of reminds him of a puppy. He just got a good treat, clueless that he is about to be taken to the vet for his annual round of shots.

“When are you asking Nichole, dude?” 

Craig looks at their teacher. She is writing equations. He wishes she would turn around and cease this conversation.

“I’m not sure… Uh. I’m sort of grounded right now, so… I’d probably have to do it during school.”

“ _ How _ are you doing it?” Clyde leans closer to him, eyes wide and the corners up his lips turned up. “You know what you  _ could  _ do — you could reenact the scene from  _ 10 Things I Hate About You  _ — you know that scene where the guy sings ‘Can’t Keep My Eyes Off You.’ I mean you suck at singing but you could totally just lip sync it.”

Craig stares at him in disbelief, his nose wrinkling up and eyebrows huddled together. “There is no way in  _ hell  _ I’m doing whatever it is you are talking about,” he tips down his chin, narrowing his eyes on the now-frowning boy next to him.

Clyde’s shoulders fall. “Damn. You’re so lame, Craig.”

“Isn’t that movie a huge chick-flick?” 

“I watched it with Bebe!” Clyde exclaims.

Craig does his best to not roll his eyes. Luckily their teacher begins class and he can end this ludacris conversation.

* * *

Detention is pretty much the same as yesterday.

He writes his essay on why following school rules is important and then pulls out his homework to not touch. 

Unlike yesterday though, he sits in  _ front  _ of Tweek Tweak. 

It’s a  _ perfect  _ plan until he realizes that it is extremely ineffective. He still thinks about him. In fact, he has to resist turning back and looking at him. He  _ regrets  _ sitting in front of him — unable to look at his bare neck, jerky shoulders and wavy blonde hair.

He doesn’t know what it is — why he is so intriguing. Why he stopped being friends with him in the first place.

He doesn’t know where this urge of getting the hell away from him when he is around comes from. He definitely does not  _ hate _ him. He cannot think of a reason to want to get away from him, but yet, when he is around him, his stomach twists; it feels like little insects are crawling between his organs — tickling him and making him squirm.

He takes in a deep breath, and in a moment of weakness, glances back at the boy. 

His head is down, eyes focused on whatever it is he is working on. His bangs cover most of his forehead. His hands are shaking. He is biting his lip, the puncture causing his lips to look very smooth.

He swallows and turns back around, crossing his arms over his chest. A heaviness sets upon him; the gravity of the earth seeming it has hitched up by 200 percent. He stares at the clock — feeling completely devastated by where the hands lay. He still has 45 minutes left.

  
  


* * *

  
  


When detention is finally over, he darts out — feeling suffocated.

The walk home is warmer than the day previous, but a lot more windy. Craig has to adjust his hat from it falling off. He takes his time to walk home, in no way in a rush to retreat to his room for the third day in a row.

Halfway through his walk, he smells cigarette smoke.

He glances around and behind him — a couple yards away is Tweek.

Jesus.

How long has he been there?

He turns around, grabbing the straps of his backpack. He quickens his strides, but a moment after smelling the smoke, he hears a loud, “ _ fuck!” _

He turns around. A plethora of papers blow away from Tweek and into the street. Tweek chases after them — striding into the street after looking both ways, his cigarette still in his hand.

Craig glances around, sighing, and then jogs over to help him — gathering the papers that he  _ can;  _ the ones that haven’t traveled all the way down the street. He and Tweek pick up the tornado of papers together, and when they have gathered as much as they can, Craig shly steps over to him, handing him the collection.

WIthout meeting his eyes, Tweek takes them and shoves them back into his backpack, mumbling out a thanks. His cigarette hangs between his lips — those same lips he was starting at before, pink and full. The cigarette embers glisten. 

Craig blinks and stares away — in disbelief that this is the second time, today, he has stared too long at Tweek’s lips. He swallows. He does not look at him, instead, the side of him — pretending to notice something peculiar. “No problem.”

There is a brief pause which follows. With some courage, Craig looks over at him. Half a second later, Tweek meets his gaze, but it is short held. They both look away. Craig realizes how close he is to Tweek — how he could see the distinguishing line between Tweek’s pupil and almost as dark irises. Craig takes a step back at the realization.

“Well. Thanks… again,” Tweek mumbles, voice quiet and hesitant. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Tweek step away. He looks up, watching him float away. With a deep inhale, he steps forward, easily meeting his stride with his long legs.

Tweek glances over at him, startled; eyes wide and eyebrows arched up. 

“Tweek, uh, wait,” he asks, looking at Tweek’s deep green sweater instead of him. He spots a collar beneath the sweater — he must be wearing one of his many button ups underneath. In fact, he  _ knows  _ he is because the button up shirt pops at the bottom of the sweater. He inhales. He meets his eyes — immediately coming in contact with those dark irises and barely distinguable pupils. He opens his mouth, but then closes it — his heart pounding heavily in his chest.

Tweek removes the cigarette from his mouth — Craig’s eyes briefly skipping past his mouth again as he does so. The cigarette sits between his fingers which reside among Tweek’s crossed arms. 

“Yeah?” Tweek prompts.

Craig meets those dark eyes again. He cannot look into them — God. It’s too much. He looks at his feet. “I am, uh, sorry for what I  _ said  _ the other day,” he swallows the tightness in his throat. But it does not prevail, a new tightness quickly follows. “I didn’t mean it.” His voice is low and gravelly. 

“Oh.”

There is a pause. A gust of wind follows. Craig pulls his slightly altered hat back onto his head.

“It’s okay, Craig.”

He manages to lift his head up to look at him. His wavy hair looks ever more crazy from the wind; tossed in multiple directions, but he still manages to look  _ good.  _

He does not look mad. 

He looks anxious, but then again, he always does. To further assure this, he runs his hands through his hair. Craig watches as he pinches the ends as he runs them out. He used to pull Tweek’s hands out of his hair when he did this.

He thinks he does it a lot less now — his hair looks a lot better. At one point, near the time he found out his parents were drug lords, he would wear beanies all the time to cover the immense amount of hair he pulled out.

“Are you okay?” Tweek asks, the words coming out quickly and hardly spaced out. 

He does not look at Tweek. Is he okay? He does not know. Most of the time, he feels like he is not. 

“I think I am,” he says. “That day — I was just upset with something my dad said. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“What did he say?”

Craig gulps. He is not sure if this is information he should share with Tweek — it’s weird. It’s weird that he gets so upset about his father dissing Kenny and being homophobic. It’s weird…  _ isn’t it? _

“We should probably start walking or my parents are going to ground me for a second time — thinking I did something after detention or something.”

He offers Tweek a small smile. He wonders if it is as obviously fake as Nichole’s this morning. Tweek picks his head up and stares at him a moment; seemingly searching, before nodding and offering a half-smile back.

They begin walking. He does not answer Tweek’s question, and Tweek seems to gather he will not be getting an answer, because he moves on. “Do you want me walking  _ with  _ you?” He asks. “Because, look, man, it’s no big deal. I can hang back and you can go — we can walk separate.”

“No,” he glances at Tweek — the boy looking as startled as always. “It’s fine. We are walking the same direction anyways…”

“Okay,” Tweek voices in low tone. “Do you care if I smoke though — I don’t want to smoke around you, if you care. I can put it out.”

“It’s fine, Tweek,” Tweek meets his gaze, “ _ really _ .”

Tweek’s lips twitch into something possibly resembling a smile before he inhales the cigarette, the smoke blowing through his mouth. Craig does not let his gaze linger, instead shifting his gaze to the buildings of downtown South Park in the nearing distance. “What made you start smoking anyways?” Craig  _ finally _ asks — hopefully not giving away that he has been thinking about this ever since he told him and Clyde about his detentions.

There is a pause.

Tweek inhales again and blows out smoke. “It’s, ah, embarrassing. I’m not telling you.”

Craig tries to hide his disappointment. He figures Tweek does not owe him as much, especially when he hides the words of his father. “It can’t be that bad.”

A small sigh elicits from Tweek. “Trust me, it is.”

This only makes Craig wonder more, but he relents. Tweek is even more stubborn than he is, and there is no way he is getting it out of him if he does not want him to know. “Fine,” he says, “What about weed? What made you start doing that?” He glances at Tweek briefly.

“In a short answer: Kenny.” As they walk through the downtown area, their isolation becomes obsolete — people walking past and around them. “In the longer answer, I got super into these SubReddit groups on people with anxiety. A lot of people said that weed has helped them more than medication ever has. Then, I got deep into the Mariujuina-Is-A-Healer SubReddit, and learned even  _ more  _ about it. Turns out a lot of people like use it for self medication. You know Native Americans smoked weed? It was common among them. They used it for healing, even.”

Tweek inhales smoke his cigarette and then blows it all out.

“It was also believed that people who smoke together will always be united. I liked that a lot. For some reason, I just feel like that is so reassuring.” Tweek says. “So. I thought I would give it a shot, and it turns out, it works like Reddit said — definitely works better than my anti-anxiety meds, at least. I am still against drugs — but I don’t know, it  _ is  _ legal, and  _ coffee  _ is a drug, and I’m definitely already addicted to  _ that.  _ So, well, it might be too late for me anyways, so, well, fuck it.”

Craig stares straight ahead, holding onto the straps of his backpack, taking in everything he just said. He missed this — Tweek rambling on about a myriad of topics. Craig never knows what part he is supposed to respond to.

“I think Kenny told me that — about the Native Americans…”

He briefly recalls it. He was not really listening. He doesn’t remember the part about them always being united… just about them smoking it.

“I told him about it!” Tweek exclaims, “asshole not giving me credit where I deserve,” he mumbles, shaking his head.

Craig glances over at him, a tiny smile trying to pry its way across his face at the scene of Tweek shaking his head, cigarette between his lips, and head down. He is about to muster up something to say when Tweek’s eyes find him. “Well, I was going to try to find a new job… so I was thinking of checking out  _ Whole Foods _ . I hear they need more grocers…,” Tweek angles to him, stopping in stride.

Craig glances behind him — they are, in fact, in front of the  _ Whole Foods _ . It is weird, he is always in such a rush to get away from him, and now he finds himself sad to say goodbye.

“Okay…,” he breathes out, eyes landing on Tweek’s once more. “Well.” He says, letting the straps of his backpack go, just grab them once more. He glances at the store again, unable to stare Tweek in the eyes for longer than a second, apparently. “I guess I’ll see you Monday…”

“Yeah.”

He is about to step away, but Tweek stops him with a question. “Unless… are you going to the bonfire?” His voice is low and wobbly; his eyes meeting him for a mere second before quickly drifting down. “I am probably going to be there…” Tweek adds before he manages to speak. “So if  _ you  _ are going, then maybe, I’ll see you there.”

Craig stares a moment before finding his voice. “I, uh,  _ want  _ to, but I have to see if my parents will let me.” He stares at the top of Tweek’s disheveled hair. He hopes he at least pushes it down before asking for a job at the  _ Whole Foods.  _ It looks good, but definitely not professional. If they were closer, maybe Craig would reach forward and fix it for him, but they are  _ not,  _ because of  _ Craig _ .

Tweek lifts his head up and there is a quaint smile to his face as he says, “okay, well… maybe see you there.”

“Maybe,” he answers, those bugs crawling back throughout his organs. Tweek nods before stepping away. Before he is out of ear shot, Craig calls out, “good luck with the job hunt.”

Tweek whips his head back, and with a genuine smile, says, “thanks,” before ducking his head back down and heading towards the entrance of the  _ Whole Foods.  _ Craig stands there, way too long, watching, before he continues his walk home.

The winds seem less strong on the way home — the sun slipping out between the clouds. 

  
  
  



	9. bonfire

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm to all those who read this story and offer their support for this fic ❤️ Once again I have put off homework for this South Park couple........ :-)

_They are in his backyard. The sky is pink. The grass is bright green, alive and well nourished. Tweek is beside him. He is laughing at something and nearly glowing._

_Then suddenly, they are in his room._

_Tweek is close to him, smiling, the pride flag pin in his hand._

_“You like it?” Tweek asks him._

_Craig nods, staring down at the pin. He tilts his head up to look at Tweek. Tweek is giving him a smile of support. “Are you?” Crait asks._

_Tweek nods. Craig exhales. They stare at one another — eye contact unbreaking. Tweek leans forward. Their gazing continues, the pin still in his hand. Tweek presses his other hand to his cheek. Surprisingly, Craig does not jolt away, but instead sinks into the touch. His eyes fall on Tweek’s lips — his chapped, bitten lips that hold cigarettes and secrets. They are pink and full, perfectly outlined and plush._

_“You keep staring at my lips.”_

_“I’m sorry,” he clicks his guilty eyes back up at Tweek’s._

_“Don’t be.”_

_Tweek leans even closer. Their noses bump and his beautiful lips brush gently against his own. He inhales deeply through his nose and closes his eyes. Tweek’s lips still a moment against his own, and then, suddenly, they are gone. Tweek has shifted his lips away, but their noses remain in contact. Tweek begins to move away, but Craig grabs onto his hand and whispers, “don’t leave.”_

_He leans in to kiss him back, but when he does, Tweek vanishes. He opens his eyes and he is alone in his dark room._

_His father appears. He is mad, towering over Craig. Craig feels like he is a child again. His father seems closer to being a giant than a human being._

_“Craig, what were you doing?”_

_“I — nothing. I — no, I wasn’t.”_

_“Do you want to go to conversion camp like that Scotch boy?” His voice is strident; powering over him like a strong gust of wind._

_Crsig looks at his father, barely making out his features through the darkness. “No, no, please,” he begs. “I’m not like him! I’m not gay!”_

_“You are. You need to be fixed.” His father grabs him by the wrist, pulling him off his bed._

_“No, dad! Please believe me. I’m not.”_

_“Stop lying to me!” His father shouts, the words hurdling against him. “You are, but you will be fixed, son. Don’t worry. It will be okay.” His father wraps him in a tight hug. It suffocates him — closes his lungs. He can’t breathe._

  
  
  


He jolts awake.

His breathing is heavy; his heart poinding. He sits up in bed, glancing around the room, eyes landing on Stripe. He exhales deeply, head falling into his hands. His hands are sweaty, or maybe it’s his forehead. 

_What_ _the fuck._

He drags his hand across his face and turns to glance at his alarm clock. It flashes 3:19am in bold red letters. He exhales, still failing at evening his breathing. 

Admittedly, it’s not the first time he has had a dream like this. It’s just been awhile. He had a lot more of them when Tweek was around… some more vivid and explicit than others. It always ends with his father catching him and threatening to send him away to conversion camp, for his _own_ good.

He lays back down, eyes wide open and focused on the ceiling. 

He feels slightly nauseous.

Dreams do not mean anything. He has looked it up, and a lot of psychologists and psychiatrists agree. He even asked his psychology teacher and conferred. 

_It doesn’t mean anything._

He grips onto his blanket, tightly pulling it over him.

He _will_ ask Nichole to homecoming.

  
  


* * *

  
  


“So, I know I’m grounded, but… there is that school bonfire on Sunday … and I was going to ask Nichole to homecoming...”

Clyde confirmed that Nichole _will_ be there. He doesn’t know where he gets this information from, but he pretty much knows all the information there is to know about the girls at their school. It is honestly sort of creepy, but useful.

“Okay, that sounds like a good plan—,” his father says.

Simultaneously, his mother says, “Craig, you will just have to find another time to ask her.”

His parents look at one another, both frowning.

“We will talk about it, son,” his father tells him with a wink.

“Thomas!” His mother scolds. “I saw that.”

Craig sighs. “ _Okay…_ well. I gotta go to work.”

“My keys are on the table,” his father says.

Craig quickly grabs the keys and makes his way out of the house — the murmurs of his parents arguing behind him. 

* * *

His parents gave him his phone back this morning. As he waits for pizzas to be ready for delivery, he scrolls through his missed text messages. Most are from Clyde — blabbering on about his nonsensical, typical bullshit. A couple are from Kenny, which makes him feel guilty to read. Then, there is one lonesome text from an unknown number.

He squints at the screen as he opens it.

_“Hey it’s Bebe. Clyde gave me your number. I just want to say, if you break Nichole’s heart, I’m going to break your neck!”_

_Bitch._ Geez.

He texts her back.

_“Woah, chill, dude.”_

Enough pizzas are ready for delivery. He grabs them all and packs them into his (father’s) car. 

He doesn’t get an answer back from her. 

* * *

When Craig gets home, his parents give him permission to go to the bonfire. His mother looks annoyed. His father seems happy. Craig wonders how long they fought about it.

He heads up stairs. Tricia is once again blasting her music. He bangs on the door.

She opens it; the annoyed expression on her face softening as he gaze falls on the pizza box in his hands.

“I brought this home for you.”

She reaches forward to grab the box, but Craig pulls it back. “But on one exception, you have to turn the music down.”

She mumbles out a _fine_ , and Craig allows her to take the pizza. Karen sits on her bed behind her. “Hi, Craig!” She waves at him, a bright smile covering her face. “Thanks for the pizza!”

“No problem,” he smiles at her. He wonders if Kenny complained to her about him being a dick.

“Thanks. You’re actually okay sometimes.” She reaches to close the door, but he grabs onto it.

“Mom and Dad annoying today?”

“Why do you think I keep my music up so loud?”

  
  


* * *

  
  


Tweek sits on Kyle Brofolski’s couch — watching some new movie on Netflix with Robert Pattinson. Kenny texted him earlier that night, saying, “ _movie night with BRO-floski, we are going to watch a movie with Robert Pattinson ~ I know you love him!”_

It is true.

He _does_ love Robert Pattinson. He is extremely hot _and_ talented, not to mention his sarcastic attitude towards literally _everything._

In this movie though, he is the bad guy, and pretty fucking awful of a person, so Tweek is not enjoying him as much as he would in a romantic film.

Kenny doesn’t seem to mind the flawed character though — yelling about how he wants Robert Pattinson to tie him up and have his way with him. Kyle seems rather unaffected by Kenny’s outbursts, but he supposes Kyle is used to it.

Stan is not here; this weekend being one of the weekends he spends with his father at Tegrity Farms. He is supposed to be there every _other_ weekend, but oftentimes, his father gets too high or wasted to come pick him up. 

When the movie is over, they skim through Netflix to find another. Kyle is adamant on a documentary. Kenny complains. Tweek suggests they watch a documentary concerning _‘Area 51.’_ Both boys seem on board and Kyle puts it on.

“Tweek, you know, you’re so much better than fucking Cartman — and ever since Butters left, it seems like there has been something missing in our group. You should hang out with us more.”

Tweek glances at Kyle, biting his nails. He likes them — they are cool and funny, but they get into way too many hijinks for Tweek. He had enough of his share when he was an honorary member of their group in fourth grade. He has learned it is best to keep distance at arm's-length. Except for maybe _Kenny,_ who has somewhat become his _best_ friend; he doesn’t really have _close_ friends, just many acquaintances.

“Uh, _yeah_ …” Tweek says.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you — I cleared things up with Heidi! We are going to homecoming together, and it’s all because of you!”

Tweek does not feel he deserves the credit. He was simply trying to get Kyle to ask Nichole, which he clearly failed at. “Oh. Well, thanks, or I mean… you’re welcome?” His voice is wobbly and uncertain. 

“I can’t believe Stan hasn’t asked me yet.”

“You’re _dating_ ,” Tweek says.

Kenny shakes his head. The documentary starts up on Netflix, beyond the opening credits and producers. Someone important begins to talk. Kenny talks over him. “He could still _ask._ I want a big romantic gesture as much as the next gal.”

Tweek half-rolls his eyes, eyes on the screen. “At least you are _going_ with someone.”

“What about that one dude you hang out with — Jason White? He seems like he could be gay. Have you seen his hair?”

Tweek laughs gingerly at his, shaking his head. “There is no fucking way _he_ is gay. You really need to stop theorizing this shit.” 

He thinks of Craig again. 

Kenny shrugs. “Never know.”

“I wouldn’t date him anyways,” Tweek looks down at his fidgeting hands in his lap. Could he say the same thing about Craig, if _he_ was gay? He hasn’t told Kenny about Craig apologizing yet.

“Yeah, he is sort of ugly.”

“That’s not very nice,” Tweek says.

“His parents are fucking _weirdos,”_ Kyle adds.

Tweek deflates — eyes on the TV. He has heard nothing of what they have said. “That’s true.”

“Why don’t you download a dating app? That could be _really_ fun.”

“Talking to people I don’t know _online_?” Tweek looks over at Kenny with wide eyes and a deep frown. “No fucking way, man! I’m not trying to get murdered!” 

“Your loss, dude.”

Tweek returns his stare to his fidgeting hands and ugly nail beds. “I got a job at _Whole Foods_ — maybe I will find a cute boy there.”

He thinks of standing outside the _Whole Foods_ with _Craig_ , and the, “ _good luck on the job hunt!”_ line. Tweek was too grateful for the kind, but nominal, words. He put meaning into them, when there was no meaning to be placed.

“You did? Dude, that’s awesome!” Kenny says.

Tweek nods, “yeah, uh, I start Monday after school…as long as I don’t get any more detentions, I should be good.” Tweek pauses, bites his lip, his fingers curling into his palms. “ _Fuck_. I totally just jinxed myself.”

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Kyle says.

He lets go of his lip. “Hopefully… but uh, speaking of… _detention,_ ” Tweek clears his throat. He runs his hands over his knees. “Craig was there… and uh, he apologized, _actually._ ”

“Good. Guy’s still a dick though.” Kenny responds. “Hasn’t said anything to me, yet. I never realized he could be this melodramatic.”

Tweek bites his lip again. He wants to continue talking about him but … he knows he _shouldn’t_ . “I still don’t know what he was so upset about — I guess something to do with his dad?” He runs a hand through his hair, “but like, I have one of the worst dads in all of South Park — and Craig totally knows that — don’t you think he would know that _I_ understand?”

“I didn’t realize Craig even _gets_ upset. I was fully convinced that guy only is capable of _one_ emotion.” Kyle inserts. 

“What one?” Kenny asks.

Kyle shrugs. “Apathy?”

“Is that an _emotion?”_ Kenny asks.

Tweek sighs. Bringing this up was pointless. 

“I don’t know — is it?” Kyle asks.

Kenny shrugs. “You’re the smart one, dumbass.”

“You’re the dumbass, _dumbass_.”

Tweek just tries to listen to the documentary — obviously getting nowhere with this conversation. Maybe talk of Area 51 will deplete his thoughts of Craig Tucker.

Probably not.

But _maybe_.

* * *

His mother went to the store with him to pick out flowers for Nicole.

She ran her fingers over different bouquets, fondly smiling down upon them. Occasionally she would pick up a bouquet and smell the flowers, letting out a sigh of content. Eventually, she had said, “ _why don’t you get these ones for Nichole?”_ and Craig obliged. She even _bought_ them for him, her previous grievances with him going to this bonfire clearly surpassed.

He looks at the bouquet now, sitting in the back of Token’s Jeep Wrangler; Clyde booming some horrible music on the speakers. Clyde sits in the back with him so Wendy can sit in the passenger seat. Clyde already called their friend whipped, so Craig doesn’t have to, but he does anyway. Just to be a dick.

With both Token _and_ Wendy here, he knows they will not be drinking any alcohol before _this_ bonfire.

But when they arrive, Clyde grabs his arm and hoists up his hidden flask from his jacket pocket. Token and Wendy have already walked away from them; in their own world. “You want to take a few swings before?” His bushy eyebrows wiggle with the words.

Craig sighs in relief, mumbling _thank god,_ before grabbing the flask and downing the atrocious liquid — not even asking what it is, but from the taste, it is clearly the cheap whiskey from his father’s liquor cabinet.

They pass the flask back and forth; stopping when they both have achieved a pleasant buzz. Afterward, they begin to walk towards the bonfire. Clyde rambles on about Bebe’s homecoming dress and how _hot_ she looks in it. He asks if Craig wants to see a picture and Craig says _sure._ He pulls out his phone, shoving it under Craig’s nose. He grabs onto the phone to look more closely.

It is pink and reveals her cleavage in a v-shape form. It stops a little above her knees and is skin tight. He passes the phone back, mumbling out a _nice,_ always feeling a little awkward whenever Clyde expects a reaction from him.

With the mention of Bebe, he remembers her strange texts.

“I don’t think Bebe wants me asking Nichole to homecoming.”

“Oh, shit… yeah. She was a little weird about that, but that’s just Bebe. She gets protective.”

Craig thinks about it. _Is this true?_ He has gone on dates with other girls Bebe is friends with, and she’s never acted this way. Is it because Nichole is so sweet? Token and Clyde _also_ expressed their concerns in relation to her heart, but not to the extent of (empty) physical threats.

  
  


They catch up to Token and Wendy by the bonfire. Clyde is texting Bebe and mumbling about their estimated arrival time. He sort of stops listening when he spots Tweek across the fire, his blonde hair wild as always. He is talking to Jason White, someone Craig also used to be friends with in grade school, but whom he has probably not spoken a word to since. He twirls the bouquet in his hands; through the flames, watching as a smile comes across his features.

“ _Craig_ ,” he hears Clyde say.

He looks over to him. He is giving him a pointed look. “Did you hear me? They are on their way here — you ready?”

It feels _wrong_ . It feels like he should not be doing this. _Why_ is he doing this? But Nichole probably expects him to ask — everyone probably expects him to ask. He cannot just back out now with no explanation. 

“Uh. _Yeah_ …”

As Clyde promised, nearly thirty seconds later, he spots Bebe and Nichole walking towards them. He swallows — looks at the bouquet — looks at Tweek — then Nichole and Bebe — getting closer and closer, until Clyde is sauntering up to them and hugging Bebe. 

He follows, awkwardly waving at Nicole. She waves back, a half-smile to her face. 

He glances at Bebe. She is biting her lip, her arms crossed. She meets his gaze for a moment before looking down.

He swallows.

Is Bebe right to want to break his neck? 

Probably.

He closes the space between Nichole and himself, pushing out the bouquet of flowers to her. She looks down upon them fondly, a genuine smile expanding across her glossy lips. She does not take them though. Not yet.

“Hey, Nichole… Will you, um, go to homecoming with me?”

She takes the flowers and nods. “Yeah, definitely, thank you, Craig.”

The smile — once again though — seems somewhat forced upon closer inspection. She pulls him into a hug, but it just all feels awkward and forced. He feels someone staring at them, and not to his surprise, it is Bebe. She looks pissed; barely attempting to conceal it, but then Clyde whispers something to her and her anger dissolves into bemusement.

When Nicole lets him go and he steps away, he notices a lot of people are looking at them and chapping. He looks around, for some reason, interested if Tweek is one of the ones clapping. When he does spot him through the crowd, he sees he _is_ clapping — but frowning as well. Craig hurriedly looks away — regretting even seeking him out in the first place.

“This is going to be _so_ fun,” Clyde slinks his arm around Craig and Bebe’s shoulders simultaneously. “Four best friends — going to _homecoming_. God, I cannot wait.”

Craig eyes Bebe. Her smile is shaky as she nods. 

Clyde lets go, and Bebe asks if he wants to take a walk. Clyde, obviously, says yes and leaves him alone with Nichole — the crowd's eyes no longer on them. 

He turns to her; she is looking down at the flowers wistfully; biting slightly on her bottom lip. Craig stares for a moment before she lifts her gaze at him. “These are beautiful.” Her voice is soft and tight.

If he was Clyde, or if he was Craig from even a month ago, he would say _you’re beautiful,_ but it doesn’t feel right — not when he knows this is not just another empty bond; doomed to fail. “Thanks, my mom helped me pick them out.” He flushes. _That’s_ embarrassing. Nichole is smiling though — an actual genuine smile now, her eyes crinkling. “I mean… she was _with me._ But. I picked them out.”

“Sure,” she giggles. “Well, whoever did, they have good taste.”

He smiles. 

“My guinea pig would think so too — she loves eating daisies.”

She giggles again, twirling the bouquet in her hands. She glances down at them. “I’m glad I came,” she announces, her voice sounding slightly breathy. Her eyes reach his again. “I almost didn’t.”

“Me too. I had to convince my parents to let me.”

“Still grounded?”

“I am honestly not even sure.”

“I don’t even remember the last time I was grounded. I didn’t even realize parents still did that.”

“You’re probably just too much of a goody-two-shoes.”

She scoffs, but there is a smile to her lips; a _real_ one again. “I am _not_.”

He smiles. Nichole is too nice for him to do this to her. He sighs and looks down. “You want to get a little closer to the bonfire? I am a little cold.”

She nods, and they gather closer to the fire.

Craig spots Tweek again — he is now talking to Jimmy Valmer. He has put his hood up, hiding all his blond hair. It makes Craig kind of sad to see. If he had as good of hair as Tweek’s, he would never hide it. Ever since he got his bad habits of hair pulling under check, his hair has been so full and voluminous; a bad hair day completely foreign to the blonde.

“Craig?” 

He looks over to Nichole — feeling Deja vu coming on. He clears his throat. “Sorry, what did you say?”

“I’m wearing a purple dress. I thought I would let you know, so you, or you know, your _mom_ can pick out a matching suit.” She wears a sly smile.

He flushes again and looks down. 

“I’m just kidding,” she laughs. “You’re so fun to mess with, Craig.”

He looks back up her — at the gleam in her brown eyes. Will he ruin that gleam? He offers a tight smile. “If you were anyone else, I would totally have a comeback to that, but you’re just way too nice to be mean to.”

“I don’t know if I should be offended or flattered. I was sort of looking for a good sarcastic comeback from the alleged, _Craig Tucker,”_ her voice drops an octave as she says his name — that same sly smile making a comeback.

He looks away. “Trust me. That guy’s an asshole.” He thinks of Tweek and Kenny. “You’re better off with this version of me.”

_Maybe._

Or maybe Craig will break her heart like everyone predicts, but if it is so evident that Craig breaks so many hearts — why would a smart girl like Nichole pursue him?

  
  
  


They talk for a while. 

It is easy to talk to Nichole; easier than he thought it would be, but as time goes on, she seems to become more anxious — often looking around, stretching her neck with small sighs escaping her lips. 

He asks what’s wrong, and she says, “I’m just wondering where Bebe is… I thought we would all hang out.”

Maybe if Craig was someone else, someone like Clyde, he would be offended, but truthfully, his eyes have been wandering too — watching Tweek as he slithers his way through various friend groups. At one point, he even catches him talking to Token and Wendy, yet he has still said nothing to Craig — even though he said outside the _Whole Foods_ that he'd see him here.

“Oh, um…,” he scratches the nape of his neck. “Do you want to go look for them?” He stares at her profile as her dark eyes lock in on nothing in particular.

She swallows, “no, no… I’m sure they are… _busy,”_ her eyes fall to the ground. She exhales through her nose with a tiny shake of the head. She glances up at him, and presents that same forced smile, “but if you don’t mind, I might go say hi to some friends.”

“Don’t mind at all.”

“Thanks, Craig,” she puts a hand on his shoulder with a small smile. “I’ll see you later, okay?” 

He watches her drift into the crowd of people — slowly becoming another face in the crowd. He sighs and turns again the fire. 

He looks at Token and Wendy. They stand close together, Token smiling and Wendy swatting his chest. _Gross_.

He turns away and scans the crowd again. He spots Kyle, Stan, Kenny and Cartman. Guilt prickles at him at the sight of Kenny. He moves his eyes away another time.

He wonders briefly where Tweek went until he spots him — this time, _alone,_ a little ways back from the bonfire.

He swallows and lets out a breath before deciding to walk over there.

Part of him screams at himself not to go. It’s a _bad_ idea, but the other part of him pulls and tugs him to the boy; like a magnet, demanding to connect.

As he closes in on him, Tweek notices him. His eyes are wide and startled, as always. Once he realizes he is in fact coming over to _him,_ he holds up a hand to him.

“Hey,” Craig greets.

“Hey.”

Their gaze lingers before Craig drops it and locks his eyes on Tweek’s combat boots instead. “Uh. So… how did _Whole Foods_ go?”

“Great, actually. They interviewed me on the spot — and well, I got the job. I start on Monday.” He pauses, but not long enough for Craig to respond. “I’m surprised you remembered… I mean. I’m surprised you asked — I mean, not like _that_ , like I don’t it’s weird you’re asking — I just,” he inhales deeply through his nose. Craig eyes him, but as soon as he does, Tweek looks away, brushing blond hair behind his ear. “It’s just we don’t talk a lot, and I — I don’t know. I thought you would just totally forget about it.”

Craig gives up in suppressing his grin. Tweek meets his gaze and his whole face turns pink in response. He shakes his head. “Ah, fuck, sorry. I’m rambling.” His eyes drop to the ground.

“No. It’s fine. I’m happy you got the job.”

Tweek nods as he lifts his eyes up.“Thanks; hopefully I won’t fuck it is up this time.”

“What do you mean?” Craig cocks his head to the side.

.“Well… at my last job, I got fired because of those detentions… It conflicted with my work schedule, and they weren’t very understanding…” Tweek hands fidget together.

“Well… fuck them, right?”

A shy smile blossoms across the blonde’s face. “It was _my_ fault, but I mean… _yeah_ , I guess.”

“Well, technically it’s the school’s fault. So fuck _them.”_

“Well I did get caught smoking on school property…”

“Fuck this school. I get detentions all the time, and I still blame them.”

Tweek laughs, “maybe that’s why you keep getting them.”

He ducks his head down to hide his pink tinted cheeks. “Guess I can’t help it that I’m such a _bad_ boy...”

“Mmm,” Tweek hums. “Well, you still don’t have me fooled.” 

Craig tilts his head up, his eyes connecting with Tweek’s again. Tweek still has that shy smile on his face; twitching almost into a grin as their connected gaze lingers. The shadows of the flames flicker across Tweek’s features; casting shadows along his high cheekbones. His heartbeat quickens under the prolonged gaze.

He sucks in a breath and looks away.

Silence casts over them; the buzz of the student body failing to dismantle the vastness of the silence.

“I saw you asked Nichole to homecoming.”

He thinks of Tweek’s frown and begins to frown himself. “Uh, yeah…,” he rubs the nape of his neck.

“Congrats. I mean — is that a weird thing to say? I kind of feel like that’s a weird thing to say…” His words are rushed and wobbly. “But, like, it’s cool. She is really nice. I like her a lot — like, not like that, _obviously,_ but you know — she is _great_.”

Craig stares blankly at him as his words pour out of his tumbling mouth; Tweek’s eyes on the ground and hands clad to the bottom of his jacket zipper. 

“Um, _yeah,_ yeah… she is _great,_ ” he clears his throat. He looks away from Tweek and to the fire, trying to spot Nichole but failing. He looks back over to Tweek. “Are you … going with anyone?” His body stiffens up at his tight words. 

“Ah, uh, no… No, I’m just going alone, but you know — it’s fine. If I went with someone, I’d probably just be paranoid that I would do something weird or annoyingh, and ruin the whole night.”

_Someone_ — not a girl, but _someone._ God, he wishes Tweek would throw a pronoun in there.

“I’m sure you would be fine.”

“It doesn’t matter anyways,” Tweek shakes his head with a sigh. “There is not anyone I could really go with anyways…”

Craig swallows, his mouth seemingly becoming incredibly dry. “What do you —,”

“Craig!” A hand cups his shoulder. His whole body deflates as he hears the nasally voice. He looks over with a glare at the person the voice belongs to. “There you are! You wanna get a little more drinky-drinky going on?” He pulls out the flask from his jacket pocket once more, his eyes scanning around them to make sure the area is clear of anyone who would reprimand them. His eyes land on Tweek, suddenly aware of his presence. “Tweek! That means you too!” Clyde grins.

Craig steps away from his friend; his hand falling off his shoulder in response. He lets out a small aggravated sigh before answering. “Sure.” He peers over at Tweek, “do you… want to join us?”

Tweek eyes the flask and then Craig. “I don’t know. I don’t really trust myself around liquor.”

“Tweek, don’t be a pussy,” Clyde says. “It’s tasty — you’re not driving, right?”

Tweek eyes Craig and then Clyde. “Uh. Sure. Fine. Whatever. Fuck it.” His voice is tight.

“Sweet!” Clyde beams. “To a dark corner we go!” He points his hand out to the a section of the empty field ahead of them. 

Clyde guides the way, Tweek and Craig lingering behind him. Their conversation has unfortunately ended, Craig having no idea how to bring it back to life. 

Fucking Clyde.

They sit on the semi-wet graze, yards away from the giant bonfire, the glow in the distance. Craig asks what happened to Bebe. Clyde tells him she is with Nichole. The flash passes between them until the contents are all gone. Craig begins to feel a little bit more than a buzz. With this much alcohol in his bloodstream, it’s difficult to keep his eyes off the blonde — that magnetic pull seemingly growing stronger with each sip. 


	10. spirit week

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg thank u so much for the support everyone. I seriously love you all so much. It means so much. Thank you! 
> 
> This chapter is .....eh..... like I really did not want to write it like I just wanted to skip to homecoming!!!! haha so sorry if it sucks. Idk maybe it’s ok. I .......... struggled and fear it shows......................... I hope you enjoy though!

Monday kicks off Spirit Week with Pajama Day. 

Craig wears the NASA pajama pants, his grandma gifted him, along with a NASA graphic tee — not a pajama shirt, but doing the trick, nonetheless. Pajama Day is the one day of year Craig wishes he owned slippers — he is extremely envious of Kenny and Stan, who seem to have coordinated their foot attire — both wearing different kinds of animals on their feet. 

It is kind of cute, but more so gross.

Kenny still has not talked to him, and he is beginning to think this is going to be one of those friendships that will bypass him if he does not do something about it, but he decides he likes the friendship too much to let that happen. With a deep breath, he strides over to Kenny and Stan. They both look at him. Stan sort of raises his eyebrows and glances at Kenny who glances back with equal surprise. “I’m gonna go look over the notes for today…” Stan says before slopping away.

Kenny looks at him. “Uh, hey, dude.”

“Hey.”

“Long time… no talk.”

“Yeah...” Craig says. “I’m sorry I was being such a dick.”

There is a pause. Kenny stares at him a moment, his expression softening. He smiles slyly. “You’re always a dick. I’m used to it.”

“Great… so we don’t have to talk about it then?”

Kenny shrugs. “I mean — if you want to, I’m listening.”

He looks down. He feels himself redden at the memory of what Kenny said. “I rather just smoke some pot and forget it happened.”

“I’m good with that too.”

Craig lets out a sigh of relief — happy he has fixed things up with Kenny, one of seldom people he actually likes at this school.

He glances towards Nichole. She is in discussion with Stan. Nichole is someone he likes in this school too, yet he feels like he is in the process of wronging her too; just leading up to another apology. He sighs and ducks his head down.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it… but… are you, like, okay?”

“Yeah. I think… I don’t know.” He rubs the nape of his neck. “Sometimes I just feel like I’m pretending to be someone I’m not…,” he confesses, eyes on the ground. 

“...Then who are you actually?”

He swallows. 

“I don’t know…,” he exhales. This is not about the whole bad boy image; it’s more than that, but he uses that as the cover. “... it’s like you said — I’m not this mystery, bad boy.”

“That’s what this is about? You being a mystery, bad boy?” Kenny chuckles. “I didn’t realize it bothered you so much.”

It doesn’t. It does. Maybe. He is just tired of trying to hide the parts of him — one of those parts somehow involving Tweek Tweak. He likes being around him, and yet, he refrains himself from doing so out of fear of liking him too much. It is all so confusing. 

Last night was easy — he was buzzed and being around Tweek was easy. He was just happy; just letting himself be in the moment without questioning what it all means. It’s the questions that ruin it; the logical part of his brain trying to make sense of it. He just wants to ignore that logic. He wants it to just be. He doesn’t want it to mean anything, but he is not stupid, nor illogical, he knows it does. It’s why he just wants to stay away from Tweek because then he can just forget about it — pretend to be this other person and not have the reminder that he is not.

“I don’t know. It doesn’t,” he says, voice low and grim. 

“McCormick! Tucker! Get ready at your stations! We’re about to start.” 

* * *

  
  


When Craig walks into their first period, Tweek eyes him. Craig meets his eye contact briefly as he walks to his desk. He looks the same as always — a straight line across his mouth and eyes completely void of expression. Craig could have the best or worst day of his entire life, and the world would be clueless. 

Last night felt like they were friends again, but he knows better than to assume it actually means anything. It was probably just a fluke — he had been there when Clyde invited him to drink, and Clyde had to invite him without making it awkward. Tweek took very small sips of the distasteful liquid; distrustful of its effects.

Clyde talked most of the time; it was more so, maybe, hanging out with Clyde than Craig. Tweek, maybe, got a lot of words in as well, but Craig was mostly just quiet. He wishes he said more, but that’s just Craig. He is quiet; a man with little words. It’s always somewhat been this way between them — Tweek rambles, and Craig uses concise language, never making a fool of himself.

Tweek flushes — sure he said multiple things last night that were embarrassing. Why is he the way he is? Why can’t he just shut his mouth and be similar to Craig? Instead he just blabbers on and on, often to the point of humiliation.

He runs his hand through his hair, tugging in the ends. 

He drops his hand. People are probably watching him. They probably think he is a freak. 

For the next fifty minutes, his teacher drones on about The Boston Massacre. Tweek tries to pay attention but his mind keeps wandering; his anxiety taking a front seat, between the presence of Craig, and his new job starting this afternoon. It’s too much! How is he possibly supposed to pay any attention at all to something that happened two hundred years ago, when so much is going on in the present?

When the bell rings, Tweek lets out a sigh of content. One class down, five to go. He packs up his belongings and heads for the door. He is completely surprised when he hears the deep, nasally voice of Craig Tucker directed at him.

“Uh, hey, Tweek.”

They are walking together — in the halls — on purpose. Tweek lets out a small gasp as he greets him back in shy, quiet words. “Oh, hey, Craig.”

The hallways are always so crowded. Tweek wraps his arms around himself in an attempt to make himself small; less in the way of the student body stampede. Craig does not seem to mind the crowd, arms flailing at his sides and standing as tall as always. He has noticed before that Craig always has good posture — compared to himself who slouches and caves his shoulders in. In this moment, staring at his good posture; he straightens his back and rolls back his shoulders. Craig is still extremely taller though; towering over him and the rest of the stampede of students and facility. 

“You start your job today, right?”

“Yeah. You, uh, remember that?”

“You just told me yesterday.”

“I know, but,” he bites his lips and looks down. I’m not sure what is happening between us — are we friends? You keep talking to me like we are friends but are we actually? “I don’t know. I figure you have a lot better things to memorize.”

“Like what? The Boston Massacre? That’s so boring. I do my best to immediately block that kind of stuff out.” 

Tweek lets out a short, breathy laugh. “And me starting a job at Whole Foods is what? Exciting? I don’t think so. It’s just a lame part-time job. It’s definitely not going to change any history, or anything remotely substantial.”

Craig shrugs, moving on. “Well, I just wanted to say, good luck.”

Tweek flushes and bites his lip. This is weird. Craig Tucker went out of his way to talk to him — just to say good luck. “Thank you. I am really freaked out… I really hate starting new jobs — doing new things; I just wish I could skip ahead.”

“I’m sure you will do great, Tweek,” Craig looks over at him with a toothless smile. Tweek knows he is blushing again and hates himself for it. He looks away. 

“T-Thank you.”

“Yeah, no problem. Well… got to get to class, so see you later.”

“See you.”

* * *

The rest of Spirit Week goes as follows:

Tweek starts his new job, and it actually goes better than expected. His boss and supervisors are helpful and understanding. The girl who trains him is clear and kind. The customers… suck, but that is to be expected.

On Tuesday morning, Craig, again, goes out of his way to speak to him — walking through the halls with him, yet again, and asking about his first day at Whole Foods.

It’s small interactions, but happen consecutively; therefore, having meaning. Maybe.

What scares him is that it this were anyone else, he probably would not question it. If it was Kevin Stoley talking to him, he probably would not think anything of it, and they used to be friends once as well. But it’s not Kevin Stoley — it’s Craig. It’s Craig so it means something even though it probably doesn’t.

He tells Kenny about it in third period, unable to keep his god forsaken mouth shut. 

“It sounds like someone has a crush.”

“What! No! No, Kenny. I don’t — it’s just like — are we friends again? I just want to know. I know it sounds ridiculous— and Craig literally probably thinks nothing of it— and I don’t even think these small conversations could determine if we are friends or not, but like… it’s weird, isn’t it? Like we don’t talk for a year and half and suddenly, he is asking me about my job?”

“I asked about your job.”

“But we are friends — that’s like, exactly my point.”

“I don’t know, Tweek. I think you’re looking too much into it… why don’t you just go with the flow?”

“Sometimes I really feel like you have no idea who I am,” he shakes his head. “Go with the flow? I don’t think I’m capable of doing that.”

“Then ask why you stopped being friends in the first place— it seems like you want to know.”

“I can’t just ask him that. I’ll sound pathetic.”

Kenny shakes his head and exhales. “Tweek, please, just admit you like him,” he drags a hand across his face. “If you wonder this much about whether you are friends with him or not, you obviously like him.”

Tweek glares at him. “I don’t — it’s just weird. Okay? That’s all I’m saying.” Kenny has a sly smile on his face that Tweek wants to just smack away. He knew this would happen if he brought up Craig, and he still did. It really is his own fault. “Just shut up.” He buries his face in his arms on the surface of his desk. He hears Kenny’s laughter. 

How is this asshole his best friend?

He really needs to spend more time with other people.

“Look, Tweek — all I know is that Craig is not the type of person to intentionally talk to someone he doesn’t want to be talking to…”

Be peeks over at Kenny, whose laugh has morphed into a smile. He does not realize until now that he is smiling too.

Okay. 

Maybe Kenny is not so bad.

* * *

On Wednesday, they cast their votes in for homecoming king and queen. 

Craig writes down Token for homecoming king — not really caring if he wins or not. He votes Bebe for queen, even though she physically threatened him the other day. He still likes her better than Bebe and has no idea who the senior girls even are.

Clyde campaigned all morning for Bebe and Craig. The homecoming queen and king are expected to dance together. Clyde is positive Bebe will win homecoming queen, therefore needs Craig to be the one to dance with her, otherwise “those chump ass senior guys will steal her away.” He asks why not Token, and Clyde says it is because they have been in this together since the beginning, and “obviously, dude, you’re my best friend.”

Clyde is loyal. 

He will give him that.

* * *

Friday morning, Nichole wears her cheerleading outfit to school, the homecoming game later that day. He tells her she looks nice, and she says, “so nice that you’ll feature me in your football game footage tonight?”

He says, with a smile: “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

He does not really know why he flirts. 

Then again, he doesn't understand why he doesn't like her, and doesn’t know why it seems like she is possibly forcing it as well. What is the point? If she doesn't like him and he doesn’t like her— what is the point? 

Because they are in too deep now? They are homecoming dates?

After the dance, he will tell her that he likes her — he really, really does — just not in that way. She is smart and sweet, and probably his favorite female in this school; he doesn't know why he doesn't like her. He wishes he did. He should. 

But he doesn’t.

He will tell her, and probably, but hopefully not, hurt her. 

* * *

Craig was originally happy to film the football game, but as he stands along the sidelines, rain falling down upon him and onto the camera lens, that initial feeling of joy morphs into irritation. They are not even winning — down by 16 in the second quarter, and Craig really doubts they are going to catch up.

Half-time hits and the cheerleaders take center field to perform. Craig watches them and sighs; Kenny making comments beside him, seemingly way more interested in the show than he is. 

“I’m going to go get a hot chocolate. Do you want anything?” Craig asks. Kenny is getting footage of the half-time show, therefore, he does not have to. Besides, their teacher told them to capture everything — “make me feel like I was there,” he said. So, honestly, standing in line for a hot chocolate at the long line of the concession stand is all part of the business.

“You’re missing this?” Kenny does not even take his eyes off the cheerleaders to look at him.“They are fucking dripping wet, dude — and jumping around… I literally can see Red’s nipples.”

“Isn’t your camcorder‘s mic on?”

“I can edit it out.” He says with a shrug, still gawking at the cheerleaders.

“Whatever. Do you want anything or not?”

“Oh, I want a lot of things… but ain’t none of those things from a concession stand.”

Craig frowns. “I’m not even going to ask… I’ll be back soon.”

As Craig walks over to the concession stand, he looks around with his camcorder at anything interesting to record. Some underclassmen are sitting beside the bleaches. He gets a shot of that. Some older man — probably a father of a student — is walking back to the bleachers with an abundance of popcorn in his hands. He gets a shot of that. He scans over the bleachers — zooming in on some of the homemade signs. As he scans through the crowd, he spots Tweek. He keeps the shot on him a moment; watching him. He sits with Jimmy Valmer and Jason White. He zooms in further on Tweek. He is drinking from a thermos; most definitely coffee. He is not really paying much attention to the field of wet cheerleaders, instead on his phone, unamused. His hood is on, his wet blonde hair stuck to his forehead. He looks good on camera… really good.

He will definitely have to edit this part out later.

He zooms out and immediately puts his camcorder away; glad no one is around because his face is surely red.

He looks at the concession line. It is dreadfully long, but he knows it will be worth it.

  
  
  
  



	11. homecoming

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you SO MUCH for the support :)
> 
> hope you enjoy this chapter! it has been one of my favorites to write.

Token rents a limo for them.

It seems a little much, but he would expect nothing else from his wealthy friend. Craig is sure it’s partially to impress Wendy; he is almost as obsessed with her as Clyde is with Bebe. 

_Almost._

The limo has champagne in it, which surprises Craig slightly because Token is usually against any form of intoxication on school property. He supposes it is champagne though, and champagne is fancy unlike the flask of stolen vodka in his jacket pocket. 

They drink the fancy champagne in fancy champagne flutes that Craig swears are probably more expensive than the money his mother spent on his suit. Token has never been an asshole about his wealth, but then again, he doesn’t really have to _try_ to be. He just unknowingly is — with his limo, fancy champagne and flutes. His suit is probably _his,_ not just a lease but part of his property. It is probably worth over 400 dollars _at least_.

Nichole is quieter than usual on the limo ride. He wonders if she regrets her choices. He catches her staring longingly at Clyde and Bebe. She probably wishes they were more like them. Clyde whispers something into Bebe’s ear and she nearly snorts from laughing so hard. He feels bad. He wants to make her laugh — wants to be the person she wants him to be for, at least tonight.

“You know, I just wanted to tell you, Nichole… You look gorgeous.”

She smiles at him, that wistful glimmer in her brown eyes morphing into gratitude. “Thank you. You look handsome in your suit.”

“Thanks, it’s a rental… I’ll turn back into a pumpkin at midnight.”

She giggles. He is happy to see her laugh. He is _determined_ to make her laugh tonight. 

“Guess you won’t be going to any after parties then?”

“I mean I guess you could carry me there.”

She giggles again. “You might have to carry me there with all this champagne I’m drinking.”

“From champagne? _Weak_.”

“Hey, I don’t drink a lot!”

“Because you are a goody-two-shoes.”

“I am not!” She argues, voice stern but there is a smile on her lips. 

“No?” He asks, pulling out the flask from his pocket to flash at her. He makes sure Token and Wendy are not watching as he shows it off. She stares at it and laughs as he puts it away. “How does that make you feel?”

“It makes me feel like you better be sharing that with me.”

He grins. “I would be a bad date if I didn’t.”

They laugh together until the moment is interrupted by Bebe. “Hey you guys! I just want to make a toast to homecoming!” He and Nichole turn their heads to her. She looks over to them as she says, “may it be a real fairy tale.” Her voice is honeyed and eyes narrowed, putting Craig on edge. Nevertheless, he raises his glass to the toast and takes a sip of the smooth, sparkling liquid.

* * *

They let Wendy and Token go ahead in order to sneak in a drink. Clyde brought his own flask as well, sharing it with Bebe. A weird tension hangs in the air between the group of four. If there is, Clyde does not seem to notice — a wide grin on his face and talking endlessly about nonsense. Bebe and Nichole, on the other hand, stand with their arms crossed, eyes downcast. 

As they continue to drink, the tension fades — smiles gathering on the faces of the girls; everything seemingly alright.

Once they have a good buzz going on, they head inside the building. The pop music becomes louder and clearer with each step forward.

The gymnasium is decorated from floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Pink streamers dangle from the ceiling, along white and gold balloons gathered above. The large banner at the entrance says “ _Once Upon A Time.”_ On the sides of the entrance are two tower pillars. Blue and purple lights shine down upon them; everything and everyone developing a soft and dreamlike glow.

Clyde, Craig, Bebe and Nichole get in line to get their photos taken in front of a large cardboard, cut-out crescent moon; a blue and starry night backdrop behind it. When Craig poses with Nichole, he realizes it is the first time he has actually really _touched_ her. It’s weird, but she naturally wraps her arm around him like it's happened multiple times before; the awkwardness he feels melting like butter.

After getting their pictures taken, Bebe and Nichole immediately saunter off to go find some friends while Clyde and Craig get them all punch. 

“Doesn’t Bebe look _hot_ tonight?”

“When do you _not_ think she looks hot. You said she looked _hot_ that time that a bee stung her on the chin.”

“And she did!”

“She looked like her bottom lip was going to fall off.”

“And if it did, I’d catch it with my teeth.”

“You make me want to throw up.”

“Nichole looks cute too,” Clyde says. “You don’t have to be jealous.”

They grab four cups and fill them with punch. When they turn around, they spot a certain group of boys — Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Cartman and _Tweek_. It feels like the blonde has a spotlight on him, the rest of the room fading into the background. The purple and blue hues radiate around him; his skin glowing, his grey suit cool. His hair is pushed back to the point where you can _actually_ see his forehead, something Craig cannot recall viewing in years. His heart ripples inside his chest. He finally inhales after holding his breath so long.

Murmuring occurs beside him — Clyde greeting the gang of boys in front of them in a very overly enthusiastic way for them just being mere acquaintances. It all appears to be a blur, a slipping away moment; he cannot look away from Tweek; that magnetic pull stronger than ever.

In fact, he does not look away until Clyde nudges him and says, “let’s go dude, I don’t want to make Bebe wait around.”

He follows Clyde mindlessly, unable to really think. It feels like someone just used a leaf blower on his head, scattering his thoughts in a million different directions all at once.

When they nearer Nichole and Bebe, he spots Heidi and Wendy. This means the group of boys shall probably soon be back. Heidi is Kyle’s _date_. He does not think he can see Tweek again though; his brain is still scattered, everywhere and nowhere all at once. Without really thinking about it, he asks Nichole to dance; desperate to avoid Tweek.

She gives him an incredulous look, as she is still only a couple sips into her drink, but she nods and puts her drink on a nearby ledge. He down the rest of his down, which warrants an amused and breathy laugh from the girl. 

He takes her hand and leads her to the dance floor, where a good number of people are dancing, but none his friends.

The song is something between fast and slow. He puts a hand on her waist and she wraps her hands around his neck. As he looks down at her, he thinks of Tweek. His chest closes slightly. 

“Are you okay?”

“Huh? What — yeah. Why I not be?”

“You look like you just saw a ghost,” she stares at him, eyebrows high. “And honestly… you just having any facial expression in general is kind of freaking me out.”

He clears his throat. “I’m fine. This is just my face when I’m enjoying myself… it does not happen often, so you better get a good, long look.”

She smiles, but it does not reach her eyes. She sighs and puts her cheek against his chest. He looks down in quiet surprise, his hand on her back. “You’re too nice to me. I was expecting you to be more of an asshole.”

“Huh?” He asks. “What do you mean?”

She sighs against him. She peers her head up at him. “Do you want to get some fresh air?”

* * *

“I seriously think Craig is plotting to kill me.”

Kenny rolls his eyes and takes a sip of the punch that he and Stan spiked. Tweek is definitely staying away from that stuff. “‘Cause that is more likely than him wanting to bend you over and fu —,”

“ _Yes_ ,” Tweek interrupts, taking a sip of the _pre-_ spiked punch in his possession. “It is entirely more believable. I mean… like… him asking about my job at _Whole Foods_ , he probably is just, like, trying to figure out my schedule so he can plan his attack.”

“Yeah, Tweek, that is for sure it — if you want, you can hire me as your bodyguard — _300 an hour_ — and also, a 75 dollar sign on bonus… for _me._ Non-refundable, even if I change my mind,” Cartman suddenly says, pushing his way between them and throwing an arm over Tweek’s shoulder. 

He pushes him off immediately, quickly proving if he can take his own _bodyguard_ , Cartman is entirely useless to him. Before he can respond with words, Stan is coming to his defense. “As if you could take Craig. You couldn’t even win in a fight against Kyle’s cousin, _Kyle_.”

“ _Stan…_ ,” Cartman sighs dramatically, shaking his head. His voice is tighter and higher in pitch. “Can you just… ? If you want to fuck someone, Kenny is right there, okay?” He gestures to Kenny, then turns to him, “ _Kenny,_ your boyfriend is trying to _fuck_ me.”

“Shut up, Cartman, before I kick you in the balls.”

“Guys, I need to get back to Heidi with this punch…” Kyle says, looking between them all with a frown and a glare. 

“Oh, no you don’t, _I_ will bring her punch, and then she will see that she made a huge mistake going with a _Jew_ because you can’t trust their greedy little hands with _anything_.”

Then, Cartman goes — two punches in hand, stomping through the crowd. Kyle follows him, stomping as well and grabbing the larger boy by the shoulder. Stan sighs and rolls his eyes, glancing at Kenny, “I should probably go… this has the makings of turning into something really dumb.”

Kenny simply just nods, “seems like it is already at that point but yeah.”

Stan walks off. Tweek shivers from the chaos that just unfolded, wondering why he said yes when Kenny asked him if he wanted to be part of their homecoming group. He could have just gone with Jason White and his group — nothing ever happens to _them._

“I seriously don’t get why you hang out with Cartman,” he cringes at the thought, wiping the spot where the boy touched him.

“And I don’t get why you think Craig wants to _kill_ you… everyone has their faults.”

Tweek groans. “Fine. Maybe I am…. overreacting but did you see the way he was just _staring_ at me? Clyde literally had to pull him away! It was fucked up, man. Something isn’t right.”

Kenny groans, his head falling backwards. “Tweek how is this… _not_ computing with you….,” he looks over to him, “Craig. Is. _Gay_ .” He emphasizes every word with clear cut syllables, his tongue clicking after each one. “At the homecoming game… let me ask you… did _you_ watch the cheerleaders’ performance?”

“What the hell does that have to do with anything?”

“God dammit. Just answer my question, dude.”

Tweek inhales and rolls his eyes, staring at the ceiling full of balloons. He lets his breath go as he says, “no it’s literally the fucking same shit every time — they literally never do anything new! Why would anyone watch it just to see the exact same routines? Like, _Jesus_ — do something new, and maybe I’ll watch.”

“Exactly my point. You’re gay, so you didn’t watch. Craig didn’t watch either. He is _gay._ ” Kenny shakes Tweek’s shoulders, his drink spilling over on the sides and getting on Tweek’s suit, making him sigh. 

“Get off me, man, you’re getting your shit all over me,” he rubs at his shoulder. 

Kenny does as he says, backing away. “Please say you get my point, at least.”

“Because he didn’t watch the cheerleaders do the same routine for the millionth time in a row?” He grabs a napkin off the concession table, and rubs his shoulder with it. “No, I really, really don’t see how that’s at all relevant.”

“Dude, look, I know you’re gay but _come on_ — _those outfits,_ the rain — their dripping wet bodies bouncing up and down? I jacked off to that footage I got like five times already.”

Tweek’s face twists in disgust. “Jesus, dude.”

“And Craig _left_ — decided in that moment, he wanted a fucking _hot chocolate,”_ he shakes his head, “dude, if he is straight … he must just _really_ fucking love hot chocolate because _damn._ That performance was hot as fuck!l”

Tweek groans, rubbing his face. “I am officially done with you.”

“As am I with you. You really should get your gaydar checked out because that thing is clearly busted, dude.”

Tweek groans again. He _really_ needs to stop bringing up Craig to Kenny.

* * *

  
  


He sits with Nichole outside on one of the school wall ledges. They look up at the sky; the stars out and glowing. It is kind of cold, but the _good_ kind. Craig is not too fond of the heat; having to sacrifice his chullo hat for a baseball cap in the summer. Tonight’s weather is instead just _perfect_ : breeze light and the temperature low. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Nichole has wrapped her arms around herself, shivering slightly. He does not think he would notice this if it wasn’t for Tweek. When they were young, he became fascinated with the way Tweek would constantly vibrate. He was never still. It was always his shoulders jerking or hands trembling, or face twitching — the bad days being a combination of all three. He watched others because of this. He wanted to know if anyone else shook like Tweek. He discovered they did but only in the cold did he ever see it; their bodies trying desperately to heat them with the shaky movement. Tweek is just one of his kind. He shakes and twitches a lot less now, but still more so than a _normal_ person. 

He gives Nichole his jacket. She declines at first, but then reluctantly takes it. The bass of the music hums behind them, the parking lot empty.

They just talk about the stars for a while. Craig expresses his interest in them, and how it would be cool it would be to visit the moon. Nichole does not seem as interested in the night sky, but her eyes do not leave it. Craig does not like filling the void of silence. He is never the one to do it. After a while, when he runs out of things to say, they just sit there — the sky among them and the pressure of fitting in during high school weighing upon them. 

They sit in silence awhile — not that Craig really minds it — before Nichole sighs and says, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pulled you out here… you probably want to be at _actual_ homecoming, not outside it.”

“Are you serious? This is way better. I much rather stare at the stars than some shitty decorations.”

“Hey, I helped put those up.”

“Oh, shit… I mean, _great,_ decorations.” He offers a smile with the words. “Honestly, they are pretty nice actually… it really makes me feel like I’m living in a fairy tale… it’s just, space is more my thing.”

She laughs softy at this, looking at her dangling feet. “That’s more like it.”

Craig hums softly to himself; looking back at the stars. Truthfully, he has no desire to be back in the enclosed walls of the gymnasium. He feels like his whole body was collapsing into itself back there; his veins running dry and organs crumbling. Tweek looks too pretty; too pretty for him to call him anything else but that — _pretty._ But you aren’t supposed to call boys pretty. He specifically remembers this because in second grade, he had said that this boy — _Thomas_ — was _pretty,_ and his father went on an hour lecture of why that was not an appropriate word to call another boy. “ _People will get the wrong idea, Craig, and then you’ll get bullied. I don’t want my son to be someone who calls other boys pretty, all right? That’s not who you are going to be.”_

Of course, at eight, Craig was just _confused,_ but as he grew older, the lecture made sense.

But that is exactly what Tweek was — _is_ — he is _pretty;_ gorgeous, even. His heart swells, and he is not sure if it comes from Tweek or his father’s silent voice in his head telling him it’s not alright, but either way, he knows going back into the gymnasium is just going to make it worse.

“The truth is Craig…. I don’t think I should have come with you tonight.”

His thoughts shatter. Did she figure out that he is an asshole, who has been playing this game of pretend for the last two weeks? That he was planning to end the night with the declaration of just wanting to be friends?

He looks at her, squinting his eyes slightly. She is frowning, eyes downcast and hands clasped in her lap. “The thing is… I have feelings for someone else,” her voice is frail and gentle; at the risk of breaking. 

“Oh...” he says, not sure what else he should say. Would it be better or worse if he told her that he isn’t hurt, but instead relieved? “Who?”

She is quiet.

“Nichole, whoever he is — I am sure that guy would be more than happy to be with you; you’re amazing. You’re smart, you’re pretty, and funny…Any guy would be _lucky._ ”

She sighs, her shoulders falling. “It’s _Bebe_.”

His heart falls into his stomach. _It’s_ _Bebe._ The statement leaves him speechless. He stares straight ahead, eyes wide. _It’s Bebe._ It makes _sense_ , yet he feels shocked. How can he be stupid for something to be dangling in his face and not see it? “Oh.”

“Yeah. _Oh.”_ she sniffles. He looks over to her. He sees she is crying. He frowns.

“Oh, no. I must be a pretty shitty date if you are crying.”

She breaks out into a grin which morphs into a small, breathy laugh. Her face wrinkles slightly. She sniffles again, rubbing her eyes with her palms. She shakes her head; charcoal curls bouncing up and down. “No. No, you’re a really good date… That’s the problem,” she frowns again.

“What do you mean?”

She sighs again, meeting his gaze. “Every girl says you break their heart — I thought maybe I could fall for you, and you’d break mine, and I’d be so upset about you that I completely would forget about Bebe.”

He smiles at the silliness — it reminds him of something Clyde would do; surely not a plan of one of the smartest girls in their grade. But he supposes it is true what they say: love makes you do stupid things. “That doesn’t seem like such a great plan.”

“It wasn’t,” she giggles again through her sniffles. “It was really, really stupid. Now, not only am I sad about Bebe, but I feel guilty about leading you on.”

He bites his bottom lip; starting at her tear stained cheeks and red nose. “Don’t. I realize this might sound like I’m just saying this to make you feel better but…. well, you are _great;_ I like you a lot….,” he looks away and to the sky. He squints at the stars and constellations, exhaling slightly.

“But?”

“But… I don’t know… not in that way. And normally…. normally I just go on, and I hope that feeling comes. I hope that if I keep pretending that I _do_ feel what I’m supposed to feel, it will just come…. but it never does. I just always feel _nothing_ … and the next one comes along, and the cycle just repeats over and over again. Then suddenly, I’m known as this stone cold heartbreaker. I don’t get why girls go after me when they know how it’s going to end.”

“They like the _challenge_ ,” Nichole explains. “They want to be the one you fall for; the one you _change_ for. You can blame a lot of late nineties - early two thousand media for that one.”

He smiles, looking over at her. She has stopped crying. The tears are gone, but her eyes are still puffy and her nose still red; the evidence still there. “Sorry to make it about me… I’ve never told anyone else that before.”

“It’s okay — this night was supposed to be about _us,”_ she says. “It is only fair that we both share our feelings.”

He nods. “I’m sorry I asked you to homecoming. I shouldn’t have when I didn’t actually want to.”

“It’s okay… I’m actually glad you did.” There is a shy smile to her lips. 

The corner of his mouth twitches upward. “I’m glad I did too… Even if we aren’t meant to be a couple… I hope we can still be friends. You’re truly one of the only few people I like in this school.”

She lets out a breathy laugh, pushing a curl behind her ear. “Kind of harsh on the rest of the student body, but yeah… I’d like that.” She nods. “You’re a good friend, Craig.”

She pulls him into an unexpected hug. He gasps slightly, but relaxes into it, holding tightly onto her. She presses her cheek to his shoulder and he holds her back. He holds onto her awhile; just sitting their under the stars, hugging his homecoming date who mutually wants to just be friends. It’s nice. It’s… _comforting_.

“How did you know?”

“Hmm?”

“How did you know you liked… Bebe?”

She deflates against him and pulls away. She looks down and takes in a deep breath. “I don’t know… It’s complicated… But I guess… I started watching her a lot more; like we would all be together hanging out like normal, but then I would start looking at Bebe, and it was like… it was like it was only us… you know? Like it was just me and Bebe…. and I liked it. I wanted more of it…And then we started hanging out _just us two_ and… it just felt _special_ ; it felt different, but a _good_ different.

He stares, swallowing. The thought of Tweek flashes in his mind. He pushes it away. “Do you think she feels the same way?”

Nichole lets out a dry laugh. “You saw her with Clyde…” her gaze falls to the ground. The smile that was once on her face has morphed into a frown.

“You think she actually likes him? She has rejected him probably a dozen times now.”

Nichole puts her hands in her lap and hums slightly. “She once told me that Clyde was the sweetest boyfriend she ever had.” She tilts her head up to the sky full of stars. “She said her mom told her to break up with him and get the high school experience, but she said the only guy she ever _really_ liked was Clyde.” There is a lengthy pause. Craig just watches as her eyelids flutter shut. “The night her boyfriend broke up with her… right before homecoming, I thought maybe we could just go together… like in a _group_ … but, you know, we would both be dateless…”

Her voice is wobbly and frail. She sighs, her eyes fluttering open. “But then Clyde asked her to homecoming, and she said _yes_ ,” she shrugs a shoulder; her voice breaking gently like torn paper. “And they look happy, and I just need to be happy _for_ her because that’s what a best friend does.”

He swallows, looking away. An overwhelming wave of sadness washes over him; more violent than just a wave of empathy for the girl. He clasps his hands together and exhales. “You know… as not only your homecoming date, but Clyde’s _best_ friend,” his heart sort swells at the thought because Clyde is loyal as they come and would never do this to him in a million years, “I really should _not_ be saying this… but maybe you should tell her… maybe she feels the same way.”

She sighs, “no, no… I can’t … I can’t do that,” she bites her lip, chin pressed against her chest. She lets out a sigh, her hands fumbling with the fabric of her dress. “I can’t risk losing her.”

Craig wants to say more, but what can he possibly say? And who is _he_ to be giving anyone any advice on courage when he cannot even face his own feelings himself? 

Before he comes up with anything, they both hear a nasally voice yell “Craig!” 

“Yeah?” He calls back, glancing at Nichole with a frown. She glances back with a half-smile, the sadness in her eyes ever glowing.

Clyde comes running over, eyes settling upon them. He waves to them, calling them over. “They are about to announce homecoming king and queen! Come on!”

Nichole rises to her feet first. She holds out a hand to him. He takes it. “Come on, let’s go get your crown,” she says.

He is not sure if Nichole somehow _feels_ his dread for returning to the gymnasium, or if she needs a hand to hold herself, but he gladly takes it; grateful for the silver lining of comfort as he feels the inner walls within himself beginning to crack.

* * *

“Our homecoming king this year is Tony Santchez!”

A senior he does not know.

“And our homecoming _queen_ is Olivia Thompson!”

And _another_ senior he does not know.

He is not sure why he even came in here. He glances over at Clyde who has rested his hand on his shoulder, mumbling something about _there is always next year_ as if this is something Craig actually cares about. Instead of giving attention to his best friend, his eyes drift over to Nichole and Bebe.

Bebe seems _actually_ upset with the news, and there Nichole is… uplifting her and saying _you’ll get it next year,_ Bebe actually _caring_ about _next year._ He watches as a smile grows on Bebe’s face; her eyes full of admiration for her friend. She sets a hand on her wrist, then immediately pulls it away. 

He is no love guru, but it seems pretty clear to him that Bebe might be harvesting similar feelings. The sadness inside himself festers; the cracks on his inner walls expanding.

When the song changes from slow to hip hop, Bebe drags Nichole to the middle of the dance floor. He watches closely, each girl moving to the music in different ways, but in some way or another, harmonious to the other. Slowly, the space between them diminishes, the closeness between them proceeding past arm’s length. Bebe reaches forward and brushes her hand over Nichole’s hip. Nichole smiles and puts a hand to her shoulder. In a weird way, Craig sort of _feels_ what Nichole had told him — it’s just _them_. Just Nichole and Bebe, the rest of the world faded.

“Hot, isn’t it? God, wouldn’t it be so hot if they just made out right now?”

Craig closes his eyes and lets out a sigh, feeling yet another crack inside him erode away. Without even glancing over at Clyde, he exhales and says, “I need some air.”

He ignores Clyde as he chortles, “yeah, _air_ , I know what _that_ means.”

This time, he leaves through the back entrance of the gymnasium; sure to gain some alone there.

It’s colder than before; the windchill picking up. Nichole still has his jacket. He probably should have gotten that back from her…. 

He leans against the brick wall, tilting his chin up. The stars are still out, but now only in sections, covered by clouds. He inhales deeply, cheeks puffing out. He thinks of Nichole again. _It’s Bebe._ She didn’t even mention she was another _girl_ . The problem seemed more so that it was _Bebe,_ her best friend and homecoming date to Clyde.

To tell Craig her sexuality — someone she isn’t even close to — how was it so easy for her?

_Okay_.

Maybe it was not super easy. She did seem to be struggling, but she was still able to _do_ it.

He wonders of her parents — do they know? Does she worry they will find out? Is this even an issue to the girl? He has so many questions that should not seem so relevant, but unfortunately feel like they are.

He lets out the breath he was holding, closing his eyes.

In sixth grade, Clyde stole a Playboy magazine from his father. It was kind of stupid because porn could be found anywhere those days on the internet, but yet, all his friends were extremely fascinated by it. Even Token — the prime and upstanding citizen — goggled over the pages of the naked women. Craig pretended to be interested. It was not very hard because as many others have pointed out, he does not really show much emotion. All he had to do was to occasionally say, _wow_ and _that’s so hot_ and _look at her boobs,_ and he fit in perfectly.

That’s been his whole life — trying to fit in, vouching Clyde’s reactions in order to know how to act when a girl’s nipple slips at a party. 

But he is so _tired_ of pretending; of looking over a Clyde to know what to do. He wants to actually _feel_ something — to have that same look shared between Bebe and Nichole; to just _react_ without having to think about it.

Craig thinks he is a simple man.

The things he desires are simple, and _yet_ , so complicated.

He sighs again, pressing the back of his head against the brick wall. He shuts his eyes. He inhales. He smells cigarette smoke. He opens his eyes and glances around. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots faint clouds of smoke drifting from around the corner. 

He follows it, weirdly interested in the culprit — if not just to bum a cigarette off them. He does not smoke, but it seems to take the edge off for his mom, and god knows, he needs that right now.

As he turns the corner, he lets out a small gasp at the culprit. It’s Tweek. Of course it is. His chest inflates. He looks around, wondering if he can get away without Tweek seeing him, but then, it’s too late — Tweek has picked his head up. His dark and startled eyes have met his. He puts a hand to his chest, “shit, Craig, I thought you were a chaperone or something.”

Craig stares. He looks as pretty as he did inside, minus the purple and blue glowing hue. In a way, it’s better — it’s just Tweek, under the moonlight sky. He lets out a breath. “Sorry…” he finds himself walking forward. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Tweek shrugs. “It’s okay… I mean…. it _is_ pretty easy to scare me.”

Craig smiles at this, some part of him relaxing. Why was he so nervous before? It’s just Tweek… _Right_? The boy who ran out screaming during a school trip to a haunted house. 

A pause follows.

“You want to, uh, sit down?” He asks, patting the empty milk crate box beside him.

“Sure,” he mumbles, stepping forward, and flipping a milk crate box over to sit on. He takes a seat, his long legs immediately repulsed by the less-than-comfortable position.

Another pause follows after he sits down. Tweek takes a drag. Craig watches him — the moonlight lighting up his smooth cheeks; darkness pooling around his sunken eyes. “You’re playing a dangerous game here, dude… Smoking on school grounds _again…_ Didn’t you just get a detention for this?”

Tweek sighs. “Yeah… yeah, I’m fucking horrible. I just — fucking nicotine. It’s so addicting.” His eyes fall to the cigarette twirling between his thumb and index finger. “I should have never started smoking. I should have known I would have become addicted… but peer pressure you know…. it’s just… so much pressure.”

“That's why you started? Peer pressure?”

Tweek shrugs, returning the cigarette to his open mouth. He sucks in and blows out. “Eh… yeah. Unfortunately,” he ducks his head down, his chin hitting his chest. “I know… it’s so lame.”

“Peer pressure is … rough.”

He feels like he lives his entire life out under the stress of _peer pressure_ or more so, just _pressure_ — not only trying to fit in with peers but with the expectations of his father and family. 

“It’s stupid. I’m stupid. I fucking —,” he groans, shaking his head. “I just can’t believe myself.” He watches Tweek’s long, bony hands; the cigarette twirling between his fingertips. His nail beds are quite the disaster; red and swollen, multiple scab wounds. He sucks in a breath and looks at Tweek's face instead.His first thought, _again,_ upon looking at him is the word, _beautiful;_ disaster nail beds, and all. 

“Was it Kenny? I know he mostly vapes now, but he used to smoke cigarettes.”

“No. Kenny is not the type of person to ever make you feel peer pressured.”

This is true. He has never once tried to force anything on Craig — not even when he was on his LSD bender. 

“Yeah, you’re right…. so, who was it then?”

Tweek meets his eyes for the first time since he’s been out here. His chest swells in response. “It’s embarrassing.”

“I won’t judge.”

Tweek drops his gaze and looks to the ground. He lets out a long sigh through his mouth. “ _So_. I was hanging out with the goth kids a lot… and well… I sort of had a crush on one of them… so in order to impress them, I started smoking,” he confesses, eyes still on the ground. “And now… here we are.”

“Who?” Is Craig’s immediate response.

“Oh, um…,” Tweek glances at him, “so… you _don’t_ know… We actually dated for a bit… It was, uh, Pete.”

_Pete._

_A boy._

_Tweek not only had a crush on a boy, but dated him too._

Craig looks down, feeling heat gather around his cheeks. It is not the biggest reveal in history… he already had his suspicions, but to hear it out _loud,_ to _know…_ it’s an entirely different feeling. “Oh, uh… I… Didn’t know.”

He feels Tweek staring at him. He refuses to meet his gaze though.

“That…. we dated or…. that I’m… _gay_?”

Craig clears his throat; any lingering suspicions now completely subsided. He still does not look up. “Uh… um, both… I guess.” There is a pause that follows. “That’s cool… I mean, not the nicotine addiction, obviously, but …,” he swallows, his mouth feeling entirely dry. He lifts his eyelids up, peering over at Tweek. “That you’re gay. It’s cool.”

Tweek just nods, his eyes squinting ever so slightly. “Uh, yeah, I mean… yeah, I guess. Thank you… it’s okay.” Tweek looks away. He takes another hit of his cigarette. With just a couple more hits, all that’s left will only be embers. “But also not really. I mean… in a small town like South Park, it’s not like I have a lot of options — forcing me to come to these stupid high school dances alone.”

“Right.”

Is that really Tweek’s _biggest_ issue with his sexual orientation — that he has no one to come to school dances with? The heaviness returns. His eyes fall to the ground again. He goes completely still, his whole body suddenly seeming too heavy for him to carry.

“What happened to your date? Nichole?” Tweek asks after a moment. “Shouldn’t you be with her?”

“You know how these things are… you never end up with the person you come with.”

“Hmm, maybe it’s better I came alone if that’s how it really works.”

Craig still can’t look at him; that heaviness all too much.

Then, suddenly, another voice roars out to the side of them, “hey, who is out here — who is smoking?” Tweek quickly puts out the cigarette and throws it behind him. They both launch up to their feet, ready to escape, but unfortunately are not quick enough. The voice has found them — the voice belonging to one of the teacher chaperones.

“You’re both in a lot of trouble.”

Craig glances at Tweek. He looks scared and helpless, hands running through his hair. He looks back at the teacher, about to open his mouth to speak, but before he can, Craig jumps in. “It was just me,” Craig says, voice loud and clear. “I was the one smoking — not Tweek. He was trying to stop me… that’s why he was out here. He tried to stop me… told me that I shouldn’t be doing it, let alone on school property. Please don’t blame him… he was just trying to help.”

The teacher looks between them both, eyes narrowed and suspicions. Craig eyes Tweek who is looking over at him with wide eyes, furrowed eyebrows and a deep frown. His hand has fallen to his side. Craig looks back at the teacher. “Seriously… I take full responsibility.”

The teacher stares for another moment before letting out a deep breath. Clearly, Craig has gotten into enough trouble for his story to be believable. “All right, Tucker… come with me…,” she directs. Then eyeing Tweek, says, “and _you_ — get back inside. There is no reason for you to be out here.”

With one final glance at the startled blonde, Craig follows the teacher back into the school building.

_What did he just do?_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	12. no big deal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhhhhh......... i love tweek tweak and that boy has been through a lot and honestly it HURTS ME to write him... bye
> 
> Also thanks for all the support :) ily all

**Tweek:** why did you do that!!! Are u crazy!!!! Why would u do that for me!!!!!

 **Tweek:** also thank you

 **Tweek:** BUT WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT

**Craig:** my parents r taking my phone away, talk 2 u Monday.. it’s nbd

 **Tweek:** NO BIG DEAL???? NBD??? It is a HUGE deal

He doesn’t know why he sent the last text when Craig clearly won’t see it until whenever it is that his parents return his phone.

He skips the after parties and just goes home.

He feels bad.

He feels confused.

He feels a _lot_ of emotions that are impossible to place.

He feels grateful.

He feels _whole;_ feels like he is full of thick honey and cotton. He feels like he is walking on clouds, but also, knowing _damn well_ you cannot walk on clouds — he is going to come crashing down into the cement and crack his head open.

He feels an array of emotions and is really not sure how to take the gesture.

He cannot tell Kenny — no, Kenny would probably say something like, _Tweek, can’t you see, he is into you — he likes you. He’s bad with communication and shows what he feels through actions. Just put the pieces together, Tweek._ But like, it’s _not_ like that. It’s not — it’s something else, and he refuses to believe otherwise. He pushes the mini Kenny off his shoulder, and wraps his arms around himself as he walks home from the Homecoming dance.

He shouldn’t — like really, _really_ shouldn’t, but pulls out a cigarette. He puts it in his mouth and attempts to light it, but the wind is too strong. He groans, and covers his hand around the spark. After a couple of tries, he _finally_ successful.

This is all his fault. It is _his_ fault that Craig got his phone taken away. He probably got at least two weeks of detention, not to mention what his parents will do. Tweek’s parents do not care. They _know_ he smokes, but they do not care about _anything_ he does. He barely exists to them. The only time he felt like he ever existed was when his father screamed at him upon quitting Tweak Bros. It was the only time his father ever yelled at him, and oddly enough, it was the only time Tweek ever felt _heard_ by his father.

His father was mad, and his mother was upset that his father was mad, but Tweek threatened to go to the cops on his parents for illegally selling meth in their shop. _That_ shut them up. They thought he was bluffing until he called 911, and his dad said, _fine, you don’t have to work there, son!_ And Tweek hung up the phone.

He would have told the police, but truthfully, Tweek was too nervous. If he told the police, he would be sent away to some shitty foster home, or some shitty family. He has heard enough horror stories about the foster system to know how it works. At least with his parents, he _knows_ the terror that comes with them. It would be a complete gamble to tell the cops and be sent away to a possibly _worse_ family.

Also, his friends were in South Park. His _life_ was in South Park, and the thought of uprooting that all was too terrifying to ever even consider. He doesn’t even know if he _was_ bluffing at the time when he called the cops. He does not know if he could actually go through with it. It is just way too terrifying to think about.

He sighs — how does everything always come back to his parents?

He goes through three cigarettes before he arrives home. His mother and father are still awake; Tweek can tell by the lit up house. He puts his cigarette out before unlocking the door and walking inside. His parents immediately walk up to him and ask how homecoming was. Tweek says bad because he pretty much knows it will be answered with a “ _that’s great, son_!”, and it is.

He hasn’t told his therapist that his parents run a meth business because he fears he will take that as “ _something harmful to himself or others”_ and will have to report it. He mostly just does not talk about it which is strange, considering he is unable to contain any other of his many stressors. When he _does_ talk about it, he only ever does with Kenny because he is really the only other person who could possibly understand. His parents _make_ the meth his parents put in the coffee. Kenny understands why he never wanted to go to the cops. Kenny didn’t want to because it would mean being separated from Karen. Tweek is just terrified of things being worse than they already are.

Craig always told him he should tell the police, explained in very logical ways why it would be better to do so. Something dark and stupid inside him always felt _hurt_ by this. If he told the police, he would be taken away by child protective services. He would never see Craig again, and Craig would be _okay_ with that? He knew deep down that Craig just wanted the best for him, but the deep toxic roots of himself was hurt that Craig would be okay without him.

It was wrong, ill thinking, and he knew, deep down, Craig was somewhat _right,_ but it was just _too_ scary. His parents sucked, but they weren’t physically or sexually abusive. Tweek heard so many horror stories of children getting physically or sexually abused by foster parents. The risk just didn’t seem _worth_ it, so he decided he would just deal with it until the end of high school, and then never speak to his parents _again._

But this required financially stability, which was _hard_ to accomplish when you could only legally start working a year ago. Tweek worked with Kenny at City Wok for a while, _under the table._ They got paid less than minimum wage but it was more than he got from Tweak Bros. Then, as luck would have it, the place got raided and shut down for child labor exploitation. It wasn’t surprising, but Tweek still felt disappointed. He worked on a paper route after that failed with Jimmy, and it was okay — but he made way less than at City Wok.

Then _finally_ , he turned fourteen — the legal age to work in Colorado. There was hardly anywhere that would actually _hire_ him, but he eventually got a dishwasher job at _Raisins._ They hired him because he was gay qwhich was pretty demeaning, but he needed the money. He worked there for two years, then finally became old enough to get a job at the Harbucks in town. He worked _there_ until he got the two weeks of detention for smoking on school grounds.

He liked Harbucks. It was nice. He got to make coffee, and didn’t have worry about the Drug Enforcement Agency breaking down the doors and raiding them — taking Tweek into custody and questioning him on his involvement. He shakes his head at the thought. If he thinks about it too long, he will surely have a panic attack.

He undresses from his suit and puts on more comfortable clothes before preparing himself for bed. Whole Foods is okay, but he does miss making coffee; smelling the coffee beans and tasting the new brews… _without having to worry if they are drugged._ He shakes his head again at the thought, eyes shut. He opens them and looks at himself in the mirror.

_Breathe, Tweek_.

_Picture your happy place; in a meadow, full of lush greenery, surrounded by animals, listening to the current of the river, and rattle of the trees. Birds are chirping. The grass is cool. The sun rays graze against your skin, making you feel warm, but the cool breeze blows through your hair, creating the perfect temperature. You are safe. This is your happy place. No one can hurt you here._

He lets out a deep breath and opens his eyes, staring at the sunken eyes looking back at him. He has large bags under his brown eyes. He pulls out moisturizer and soaks his face in it — probably applying too much. He brushes his teeth and goes back to his bed, _another_ happy place.

He opens his messages again, and stares at the ones with Craig and frowns. Monday seems so far. He is still has to go through the entirety of _tomorrow_. How can he make it up to him? How can he return such a grand favor?

If he was caught smoking, he would be fired from Whole Foods, for _sure._ He would have to find yet another job, and who knows how that would go. After being fired from _two_ places in the small town of South Park, would he even be _able_ to find something else? He doubts it. He would be stuck. He would have to live with his parents for the rest of his life and never get away from him.

He closes his eyes again and takes in a deep breath.

He finds his stress ball on the floor and holds it tight. He needs a new one. This one is totally fucked.

* * *

Craig sits in bed, staring at the ceiling.

His parents grounded him for two weeks and are taking his phone away until Friday. He has detention for _another_ two weeks. The school board said they are going to have him work with the school janitor and help him with whatever needs to be done. It’s better than writing another one of those stupid essays. He thinks it is Principle Victoria’s attempt at showing him what his life will look like if he continues down this road because she said, “ _Craig, you won’t like how your life goes if this is how you continue to act. Hopefully you’ll learn something in these next couple weeks.”_ But his uncle is actually a janitor, and honestly, his life does not seem _that_ bad.

When he got home, his mother came into his room, sat on his bed with him, then stared at his wall for a good thirty seconds before finally saying, “I blame myself.”

Craig sighed because it wasn’t his mother’s fault. He didn’t even _smoke_ but of course he couldn’t tell her that. But she went on to say she should not be smoking around him; how this has been “ _an eye-opener”_ for her. She is going to _quit_ smoking because of this. So _really_ , he should _thank_ Tweek because now his mother is less likely to die of lung cancer.

He sighs as he stares at the darkness pooled around his ceiling fan/

He couldn’t let Tweek go down for this — he literally _just_ said he got fired from his previous job because of his detentions. Tweek would lose so much more than he would for taking the blame. Tweek needs a job. He has been working hard since the age of twelve to save up money to get away from his toxic parents. Tweek would have to find a whole other job. He works nearly everyday after school. All Craig does is go home and take a nap, or play video games.

Tweek does not deserve to lose his job, _again_ , over something so trivial.

Plus it was Tweek. Tweek has done a million nice things for him. He owes him in a way.

Once, the summer after eighth grade, Craig’s parents found weed in his bedroom. Tweek said it was his even though he didn’t even _smoke_ weed, well, at the time, of course. Tweek said it was no big deal because his parents wouldn’t care anyways, and they _didn’t,_ but that wasn’t the _point._ Tweek _always_ did stuff like that; it was just _second_ nature to him. He was way more considerate of a person than Craig was. When they played superheroes, Craig had _no idea_ what to be, and Tweek came up with his persona for him — _Super Craig._ He helped him come up with his character sheet, and helped with his costume; although, it was just a piece of printer paper with an _S_ on it. Again, not the point.

Then, in fifth grade, when Craig forgot to do his geometric shapes project, Tweek spent the entire day with him, going through the town of South Park to capture all the different geometric shapes that the project required. They stayed out until _9pm_ which was late for an eleven year old on a school night. When Craig’s guinea pig died later that year, Tweek suggested they hold a guinea pig memorial service for him. He invited a variety of people and they all shared their favorite stories of Stripe. Tweek helped him print of pictures at Photo Dojo for the memorial service. They buried him in a shoe box in the backyard, and even though Tweek hated the sight of anything _dead,_ he still stood by him as they buried him.

He was just _amazing,_ and frankly, Craig does not regret it at all.

He just… _worries_ how Tweek will take it; he is hardly able to take a compliment, let alone a nice gesture. From Tweek’s texts, he knows he already feels bad, and also _knowing_ Tweek, he is just going to let those emotions fester until he is bouncing off the walls with anxiety.

Craig doesn’t even know how to explain it to him.

_Well, you remember all those times you were wonderful to me? Well, I thought I would finally return the favor after ignoring you for a year and a half._

He knows how stupid that sounds.

Well, at least he has a whole day to think about what he _will_ say.

* * *

Alas, Monday morning arrives, and Craig thinks he knows what he will tell Tweek; reminding himself of what he will say during the boring lesson of first period. He knows exactly what he will say until Tweek is in front of him after class; his big, brown eyes wide and focused on him. “Craig,” is his first word, “I am so sorry, why did you do that? I have to tell them it was me! You can’t just take the blame for me — it’s not right. It wasn’t _yours —_ why would you do something like that for me?”

Craig glances down as he neatly places the study guide for their upcoming test into his binder. He notices that Tweek is still holding onto his. He internally disapproves but does not say anything. He feels flustered under Tweek’s stare. He had this whole speech planned out in his head, but now, with Tweek real and in front of him, his tongue just falls heavy and flat in his mouth.

“Like — I just, I don’t get it. You shouldn’t have to get in trouble because of me. I feel bad, Craig. I feel really, really bad.”

He wonders if this is worse than just letting Tweek get in trouble. It seems he has sent him on some downwards spiral. He frowns and looks up at Tweek. He opens his mouth to speak, but again, his tongue feels too flat and heavy to properly function. He begins to take steps out of the classroom, Tweek close behind him.

“Craig? _Hello?_ Why would you do that — oh _Jesus_ , I probably sound so ungrateful,” he hears the words falling off Tweek’s tongue like a pile of apples tumbling down at the grocery store and down the aisle. “I am just _bitching_ at you but you did something so nice! I am grateful. Don't get me wrong, like thank you so, _so_ much, but you didn’t have to do that, and I feel bad that you did, and I think the only way to make it right is to tell the truth.”

Craig feels so entirely useless but it’s just _Tweek._ He sighs, “it’s not a big deal,” he finally says.

“Craig! It’s a huge freaking deal. What about your parents? They took your phone away! They are obviously upset with you.”

Finally he thinks of something he can go off of, even if it was not part of the original plan. “Well, actually, this inspired my mom to _quit_ smoking, so…,” he shrugs. “Like… I don’t know, maybe it is all for the best. My dad has been trying to get her to stop for ages, and this might finally do it.”

_Deflect, deflect, deflect._

“But your _phone_ …,” the word falls off Tweek’s tongue like the last fallen apple, “and how much trouble did you get into? I mean you’re here, so I’m assuming not a suspension, but…”

“I have two weeks detention. It’s no big deal.”

“What is that? Your freaking catch phrase now?”

Craig shrugs and Tweek groans. They stop in the middle of the hallway, and Craig looks at him with some hesitation. Tweek looks up at him with a million questions in his eyes, and Craig fears if he looks too long, he will get his answers. “I gotta go to class.”

Tweek sighs. “Fine,” his shoulders fall. “Just… thank you then, I guess, it means … a _lot_.”

Craig gulps. _I would do it again, and again; a thousand times over._ But those words don’t leave his tongue, much like the rests of the words that got lost among translation.

“No problem. I’ll see you later, Tweek.”

Tweek sighs. “Later, Craig.”

* * *

Craig expects the conversation to be over. He expects to just go to detention after school, and meet up with the janitor to work, but that is _not_ what happens. Instead, Tweek shows up his locker. He curses their last names for being so close in the alphabet, causing their lockers to be incredibly close.

“Craig,” is his first word again, “I can’t let you go through with this. I’m telling Principe Victoria.”

Craig sighs and looks into his locker, completely forgetting what he needs. He grabs his planner and flips through it to look at his homework. As he does so, Tweek goes on, “it’s just _not_ right. I can’t let you do this for me! I mean, we are barely even _friends_.”

This grabs Craig’s attention. Of course he _knows_ this, but to hear it is _harsh_. He closes his planner, not really caring about his homework anymore and looks at Tweek. His eyes are vast and open; exposing the shock of what came from his own mouth. “I — uh, I didn’t mean it like _that._ But you know… Um… we kind of have drifted?”

Craig clears his throat. “Uh, no, I know,” he swallows, nodding. He flutters his eyes onto the array of passing students. “You’re right — we aren’t really friends anymore,” he exhales through his mouth. His shoulders fall in defeat. He looks back at Tweek. “But… I mean, we _could_ be. _Again_.”

Tweek’s eyebrows push together slightly, his brown eyes squinting at the taller boy. “I mean… _y-yeah,_ but… then, that’s kind of more reason for me to fess up.”

“No,” Craig says, “it’s not because… I don’t know. I kind of feel like it’s … _my fault…_ we drifted, and…,” he shrugs, looking down again. He bites his lip. He wishes Tweek would say something like he always does but he is just staring at him and _waiting_ for the words Craig does not know how to deliver. “I don’t know… You were always such a good friend, I —,” he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth. “Just think of this as… _payback.”_ Craig tilts his head up to meet Tweek’s gaze again. Tweek’s eyes are focused on him with so much intensity that Craig feels like he is just going to concave and fall onto the floor. God, why is it so hard to look Tweek in the eyes? He sucks in a breath and looks away _again._

_“_ What the fuck, man? You were… _always_ a good friend to me, I don’t need _payback_. I would… really _like_ to be friends again, but there is no reason to pay me back for anything _._ You don’t need to do this for us to be friends again.”

“I know, but,” he closes his eyes.

“I’m going to tell her —,” Craig opens his eyes. “I won’t be able to _live_ with myself if I don’t.” Tweek begins to turn away. He takes a step forward, but before he can get any farther, Craig grabs his arm to stop him. Tweek whips his head up at him, a small yelp escaping his lips as he does so. His eyes draw on him with shock.

“Don’t. Tweek, _please,_ just let me do this for you…,” Craig’s voice is soft and pleading. Craig looks at him with a slight frown and turned in eyebrows. He keeps his hand on Tweek’s arm. Craig finally finds his words as he says, “You have more to lose than I do. You just started your job at Whole Foods… I don’t want you to lose it… I know how important it for you to save your money.”

Tweek continues to stare at him; eyes ample with shock, but also something else — that _something else_ making Craig’s chest feel heavy. Tweek’s gaze falls to Craig’s hand on his arm, and Craig lets him go in response. “But I feel bad.”

“ _Don’t_.”

This produces a small smile on Tweek’s face. “If only it were so easy.”

“Tweek, I want you to be able to get away from your shitty parents.” Craig declares, producing that look of slight shock on Tweek’s face once more. “I mean it. Just let me do this for you.”

Tweek’s eyebrows pull together as his chest inflates then deflates. Their gaze is unwavering. “Are you sure?” He tips his chin down, his voice small and frail.

“Yes.”

Tweek swallows. “You aren’t going to hate me forever if I let you do this?”

Craig breaks into a smile. “No. I won’t.”

Tweek slowly smiles back. He holds in a breath before saying, “okay… um well, I hope you know how thankful I am.”

“I do.”

“I will make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“But I _do.”_

Craig shakes his head but can’t help but smile and let out a huff of air. He looks to the ground, feeling those insects once again crawling around on his insides. He does not know why he is smiling this much when he is literally about to go _detention_ but he can’t stop. “I have to go. I don’t know what they do if you’re late for detention, but it’s not something I really want to know just yet.” He holds his head up again at the boy in front of him. Tweek is still smiling and his heart swells slightly at the sight.

Tweek nods, “well, I wouldn’t want to get you into any _more_ trouble, so… I guess see you later then.” He smiles at him, making Craig feel _again_ like he is just going to float away if he feels anymore light.

He stiffens slightly and looks away, “see you later, Tweek.”

“Thanks again.” Tweek still lingers by his locker.

“You’re welcome… _again,”_ he offers a smile again to Tweek, peeking his gaze up at him, and shifting his weight from one foot to another.

  
Tweek smiles at him, staring another moment before laughing slightly, and walking away.

Craig stares until Tweek disappears; his smile still full on his face. He lets out a sigh of content, and looks at his locker. His smile displaces into a frown as looks at his locker.

_What the fuck did he need again?_


	13. cupcake

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much 💕  
> hope you like this chapter

The school janitor reminds him of all the other hicks in town that hang out at skeeter’s bar. He has a round belly like his father and an uneven beard; patchy and unkept. His father even says he _knows_ him from Skeeter’s Bar, says he is a “good guy” but all he ever hears from the janitor are various racist, homophobic, and sexist remarks. It is interesting to what qualifies as a “good guy” to his father.

Throughout the week, Tweek mentions his gratitude and condolences an abundance of times. 

On Thursday, he even brings him a homemade cupcake and says, “I have been working all week but yesterday I finally had a day off, and I know this is probably stupid and definitely does not make up for everything, but I remembered you really liked them when I made them before.”

It is a German Chocolate Cupcake. It is his favorite, but he never even _told_ Tweek this. Tweek must have just gathered it from the time he ate three of them in one sitting. It is weird because he does not even _like_ chocolate that much, but the mix of the coconut and the caramel, along with the recipe Tweek uses, makes it his _favorite._

In a weird way, even though Tweek does not quite realize it, this cupcake just further solidifies his reason for taking blame. It is a small gesture, but it means a lot to him. Tweek has already shown him in hundreds of ways and actions that he deserves what Craig did for him; this cupcake just another symbol of his thoughtfulness and kindness.

He saves the cupcake for lunch. Clyde tries to go for it, but he slaps his hand away. “Get your grubby hands away,” Craig says.

Clyde frowns as he always does when someone denies him of food. “Where did you get that? I know it’s not your birthday.” Clyde returns to his own food which consists of a cafeteria hamburger and a large diet-Pepsi. Clyde raises his eyebrows and widens his eyes at his friend again, “ _wait…_ fuck, _is_ today your birthday?” Clyde grabs onto his shoulder.

“His birthday is in January, you dumb ass,” Token shakes his head from across the table.

Craig glares at his so called best friend as his frown deepens and he lets him go. Clyde’s shoulders slump as he looks at his lap. “Oh yeah,” he says. Then a moment later, he lights up again, eyes back on his best friend beside him. “Did you _tell_ someone it was your birthday?”

“Why the fuck would I tell someone it was my birthday?” 

His friend shrugs. “Free stuff? To get a delicious looking cupcake? A free sundae at Denny’s?” Clyde throws a hand up with his words, “I tell people it’s my birthday all the time when it isn’t.” Clyde returns his attention back to his _own_ food and shoves a handful of soggy fries in his mouth.

Craig glares at him. “That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“It’s actually kind of one of the smarter things I have heard Clyde say,” Token interjects. Craig turns his head to glare at his friend across the table. Token shrugs in response. “Free stuff is free stuff, and people love giving it out on birthdays.”

Craig sighs in response to the statement, and lets his eyes fall on the handmade cupcake.

“ _See_ — Token gets it.”

“I do not, I just… _somewhat_ do. I would have never guessed that’s why Craig has a cupcake.” Token says. He turns his head to Craig. “Speaking of… What _is_ with the cupcake?”

Craig opens his mouth to speak, but Clyde interjects. “ _Wait —,”_ he leans over his best friend to take a closer look at the baked good. “Hold the _fuck_ up. That,” he points at it with a stubby finger. “Is one of Tweek’s cupcakes!”

Craig pushes him out of his personal space with a groan. “Yes. Tweek gave it to me. Jesus Christ. I would have said that in the beginning if you just asked like a normal person.”

“ _Dude —_ I want one.”

“Too bad he only gave one to me,” Craig says, smiling and biting into the cupcake. He smirks at his friend with frosting all over his lips.

“Asshole,” Clyde shakes his head. “Why the hell is he giving you cupcakes anyways? I thought you said he was _weird?”_ Clyde asks.

Clyde and Token both eye him.

“Yeah, I mean… no offense, but I talk to Tweek more than you, Craig,” Token says. “And I am cupcake—less.”

Craig looks between his friends as he chews. He swallows. “First of all, I was friends with him first, Token,” Craig wipes his face with a napkin, eyes not on his friends but instead the crumbs the cupcake has left on the table. “And also… we’re friends again. I did him a solid so he did me one back.” He takes another bite of his cupcake before braving a glance at his friends.

Is this weird?

Maybe it is.

Do they _think_ it’s weird?

Why is there a reason it _would_ be weird?

Token and Clyde look perplexed though. His friends share a glance with each other and it makes Craig feel uneasy. He looks at the crumbs again as he chews. “ _You_ did him a solid?” Clyde asks.

He nods as he chews.

“ _You…_ did a person you barely even _talk_ to, and called _weird_ a week ago… a _solid.”_

“ _Yes_ ,” he says flatly, narrowing his eyes on his friend. “What’s so shocking about that?” Clyde laughs, and then Token joins him. He just glares between them.

“ _Dude_. You’re kind of an asshole.”

“Kind of? That’s being nice.”

“You’re just mad because you can’t have my cupcake — that doesn’t make me an asshole.”

“No, but everything else you do does.”

“Maybe if you weren’t such a little bitch who takes —,”

“Guys,” Token interrupts with a sigh. They both turn their faces toward him. “Chill. We all know Craig is an asshole. What I want to know is what _solid_ you did for Tweek?”

Tokens eyes are on him. He feels the room slightly shrinking. He swallows and looks to the crumbs again. He shrugs. “Just something. It wasn’t a big deal.” He takes another bite and looks at Token. With food in his mouth he says, “don’t worry about it.”

He doesn’t like the way Token is eyeing him — as if he is analyzing him like one of his many academic equations. He feels the room shrinking again. 

Luckily, Clyde, as always, eases the tension.

“Knowing Craig and knowing Tweek — Craig probably said Tweek’s shoe was untied,, and Tweek was like, _oh man, I owe you my life, sir,”_ Clyde does a terrible, high pitched and squeaky impression of Tweek. “Because Tweek is a million times nicer person than Craig, and while Craig does the bare minimum, Tweek makes cupcakes for assholes who call him weird behind his back.”

“Harsh, Clyde,” Token says.

Craig just frowns at his friend.

“Right, cause’ when I’m the _asshole_ , I’m an asshole?”

Craig rolls his eyes. “I don’t think he is weird.” He stares at the crumbs. He literally regretted saying that the second after he said it. He just needed an _excuse._ He makes him _feel_ weird, that’s for sure, but he will never admit that to his friends. “I mean… I do… because he _is,_ but like… he is cool.”

He takes another bite.

“ _Cool!”_ Clyde says. Craig can feel Token staring at him in the same way as before. Craig ignores him and stares at Clyde. “That means he can start hanging out with us again!”

“Uh, well… I’m pretty much grounded until like… forever,” Craig mumbles as he chews on the cupcake. “But sure. After.”

He would like to hang out with Tweek again, and maybe in a group, those weird feelings won’t be so strong or present. Maybe he will just be able to be there with him without it feeling like too much.

“Why are you grounded so long?” Token asks suddenly.

_Panic._

Token is already being weird. He can’t tell the truth.

“Parents found cigs in my room,” he lies, shrugging and picking at one of the last pieces of his cupcake to eat. He feels Token’s stare burning into his head. Luckily, Clyde is there again to the rescue.

“You _smoke?_ ” Clyde sounds completely devastated; his voice soft and dripping with melancholy. Craig rolls his eyes before looking at him. Clyde is staring at him with big brown eyes and a deep frown, giving him the look a child would give a parent after finding out _they_ smoke. “ _Craig…_ that shit kills. Especially cigarettes. At least use a vape, man.”

Craig huffs out some air and takes the last bite of his cupcake. He savors it and looks down at the crumbs. It is silent between the group as he chews and swallows the delicious baked good. “Don’t worry, Clyde. It was just a one time thing.”

“Thank _god.”_

Token is still giving him that annoying, strange look but _whatever. Fuck him._

There is a pause again.

“Speaking of vapes, Bebe has been so unresponsive since homecoming — what should I do?”

“How does Bebe have to do with vapes, Clyde?” Token asks.

“Bebe smokes… _sometimes_ ,” Clyde says meekly, glancing around. “What should I do?” He whines, focus back on his friends.

Craig sighs. He thinks he knows where this is headed but to tell Clyde would be to break a promise that he does not intend to break. He has talked to Nichole a couple times since homecoming and while she still hasn’t told Bebe how she feels, she claims they have been hanging out almost _daily;_ she is confused because Bebe is sort of flirtatious, but she cannot tell if she is being authentic or if it is just Bebe being Bebe. 

“Dude. _Fuck_ Bebe. Okay?”

“But… But… she is so hot,” Clyde frowns. He looks down and huffs. “And it’s not just how hot she is… or how good she is in bed… it’s her too, ya know?” He looks up to glance between his friends with nearly tear filled eyes. “She is just Bebe.”

“Whenever you fucking talk about her — that’s all you say. What do you actually like about her?” Craig asks.

“Everything,” Clyde lets out a sigh.

Token snorts.

Clyde glares at his friend across the table. “Screw you, dude, like you aren’t just as bad as Wendy…,” Clyde pauses and looks at Craig. “By the way… how are you and Nichole? You haven’t talked about her since the dance.”

Craig blinks. “ _Oh_. Um, we are just going to be friends, actually.”

“Oh, shit, man, don’t tell me you broke her heart — are _you_ the reason Bebe is not giving me attention?”

_Possibly, but not in the way you think._

“No. She wanted to just be friends. I told you assholes I wouldn’t break her heart.”

Token makes a “ _hmph_ ” sound and Craig glares at him. “What?”

Token smiles slyly, eating some fancy bow tie noodle pasta he brought from home. “Nothing. It’s just funny how you can never hold anyone.”

“Maybe if all the chicks at this school weren’t terrible.”

Token rolls his eyes.

That is what it is. All the girls at this school — in this town — they all just _suck,_ that is it.

Well, besides Nichole, he supposes.

* * *

At the end of the day, he finds Tweek by his locker. He notices that Tweek’s locker is an absolute disaster; papers and various books scattered everywhere. It is very opposite of Craig’s locker that is completely void of clutter and organized to a T.

If they were closer, he would offer to help. If he was as nice as Tweek, maybe he would offer to help. _Should_ he offer to help? He sort of thinks of what Clyde said at lunch…. Should he take anything Clyde says seriously? Probably not.

“The cupcake was amazing.” He declares, leaning against the shut locker next to Tweek’s. 

An immediate smile spreads out on the blonde’s face. He turns his head towards him and his eyes shine with glee. It makes him happy to see Tweek so happy about a compliment about a cupcake. “Really? I wasn’t sure if you still liked them — I know you didn’t even really like chocolate that much, but I remember you really liked those.”

“Yeah, I don’t know what you put into them but they are amazing… remember I ate three that one time you made them?”

Tweek laughs, “yeah, I thought you were going to throw up.”

“I’m sure they taste as good going up as going down.”

“Gross, man,” Tweek scrunches up his face. His nose wrinkles with disgust, but the smile does not fade. “I seriously doubt it.”

Craig laughs. The gaze at one another for a moment with lit up faces and fond smiles. Tweek lets out a breathy laugh as he returns his focus to his locker. “Well, I could bring you another — I have a lot left. I definitely owe it to you.”

“ _Seriously_? That would be awesome. And it is just a cherry on top that it will make Clyde jealous.”

“What?” Tweek laughs, glancing at him.

“He remembers your cupcakes too. He was drooling all over mine at lunch today.”

“I could bring him one too.”

Craig frowns. “But that totally takes the fun out of it.”

Tweek looks over to him again with lit up eyes and laughs. “I owe him one anyways for driving me home that one time.” Then, Tweek’s focus is back on his locker, sorting through all his clutter. He eyes it.

“You know you don’t have to return favors all the time. You don’t owe him anything.”

Tweek shrugs. “I know, but,” he sucks in a breath, “I still want to.”

The corner of Craig’s lips drag into a smile as he stares at Tweek. Clyde is right. Tweek is a way nicer person than Craig, but that was obvious. “Fine bring him a cupcake too — at least I won’t hear whining.”

Tweek smirks and glances at him. “Well, I guess I’m doing you another favor then.”

The eye contact feelings longer than it actually is; it just sort of feels like time swells. The contact feels monumental. He blinks and Tweek looks away again. Craig glances at his locker once more. He purses his lips and thinks. Is this weird? Is it just nice?

“Do you want help organizing your locker?”

Tweek’s eyes flash over to him; wide and deep. In this light, he can see the specks of varying shades of browns in them. It reminds him of honey and gold. “I mean… like not to be… intrusive. But I notice it’s kind of… cluttered.”

Tweek smiles at this. “You don’t owe me any more favors, Craig.”

“It’s not a favor. I am just being nice.”

Tweek tilts his head at him. He observes him and it makes Craig feel uneasy. Tweek bites his lip before he says, “and here I thought you were supposed to be an asshole.”

“Maybe I’m trying to change.”

Tweek looks upon him fondly for another moment before facing his locker once more. Craig watches his movements, noting how light the hair on his arms are. It’s like it’s not even there. “I don’t think you should change. I like you the way you are.”

Craig’s heart swells at his. He looks down. He feels heat collect to his face. He pulls a string on his chullo hat. 

“But if you wanna help me, sure. That would probably be beneficial to my life.”

Craig tilts his head up to see he is now Tweek’s focus. Tweek is smiling at him and he can’t help but mirror him. They stare for a moment before Tweek closes his locker, straightens his posture, and says, “but not today. You’re going to be late for detention.”

Craig groans and stretches his neck out. He glances at the clock in the hallway behind Tweek. “You’re right.” He huffs out a bit of air before looking at Tweek. “Well, I’ll see you tomorrow dude.” Craig says before he begins to step away.

“I’ll have your cupcake,” Tweek grins at him. 

“I’ve never looked forward to school until now.”

Tweek giggles and steps away away. It makes Craig smile. He knows his smile will only last until he comes back in contact with the racist, sexist, homophobic janitor but he cherishes the feeling while it lasts.


	14. texting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter has a ton of text fic in it so I am sorry? I love using it.... so sorry if u hate that style of fic :(
> 
> Thanks so much for the reviews, you all are so absolutely marvelous to me!

“He helped you clean out your locker?” Kenny snorts, blowing out a cloud of smoke in the process. He coughs slightly. “That’s the gayest shit I’ve ever heard.”

Tweek takes the still lit bowl from Kenny. He places the tip of glass bowl to his mouth and watches as the embers brighten with his inhale. He holds it in for a second before he lets it go. Kenny’s laughter simmers into a cheeky grin. Tweek passes the bowl back to him.

“He was just being nice.”

“He isn’t goddamn nice, Tweek.” Kenny takes the bowl back. It went out so he has to relight it. He grabs a pink hearted lighter off his desk. “He is a huge dick. He is never that nice to anyone.” He brings the bowl up to his mouth and lights it’s contents. The embers flash orange again to match his hoodie. Tweek’s gaze falls to Kenny’s nails. They are sparkly and purple. 

“Why are you friends with him then?”

“Most of my friends _are_ assholes. You’re the only one who isn’t.”

Tweek feels uncomfortable, as he does whenever someone compliments him. He looks down. He sits cross legged on Kenny’s bed, while Kenny sits on a bean bag chair. Maybe he is an asshole. Kenny always lets him sit on his bed. If he was less of an asshole, he would give Kenny the better seat; he also would’ve took blame for the cigarettes. He still hasn’t told Kenny about _that,_ and he doesn’t plan to. Kenny will just laugh at him more, and claim that it is solid evidence that Craig is gay.

“Is that a compliment…?”

Kenny blows out some smoke and passes the glass bowl back to Tweek. Tweek reaches out for it. He holds it in his slightly shaky hands but refrains from bringing it towards his lips yet.

Kenny laughs. 

“What? Yeah, of course it’s a compliment, ding dong.”

Tweek blinks and ponders over the thought. He brings bowl to his lips and inhales. He holds the smoke in long enough for it to reach his bloodstream. He lets it out, and thinks of Craig and his mission to organize his locker. He initially thought Craig was bluffing when he offered to help, but then, at the end of the today’s school day, he showed up to his locker with a trash bag. He said he stole from the janitorial closet. Tweek was worried he would be late to detention, but Craig seemed as apathetic as always about any possible tardiness. Apparently the janitor was a “ _lazy_ _dumbass”_ whom Craig would often find asleep in the janitor’s office upon arrival.

“I used to have Butters as my go-to non asshole friend, but you know what happened to him…” Kenny bows his head down, voice low and hushed.

“Yeah. I know. I’m sorry.”

  
A brief pause follows. Thinking about Butters often makes him sad. As much as he hates his parents, at least they never sent him to conversion therapy camp, and then a _boarding school_ to follow.

“It’s okay. I didn’t mean to get all mopey on you,” Kenny reaches for the bowl. Tweek lets him take it.

  
“Do you ever talk to him anymore?”

“No. Not really,” Kenny takes a hit from the bowl. Smoke pours from his mouth as he speaks. “Last time I did though, heard he was doing okay. Dating some kid name Brad.”

Tweek’s lips twitch into a smile. “Guess that conversion therapy didn’t work out then?”

Kenny glances over at him with a smirk. “Think it might of made him _more_ gay; seems like he really is into that BDSM shit.”

Tweek’s nose wrinkles as he laughs. He shakes his head, “gross, man.”

“You think Butter’s dad is gay?”

Tweek moves farther back onto Kenny’s bed so his back is against the cool wall. He places his knees in front of him to play with the loose threads of fabric that dangle from the holes in his jeans. “Obviously.”

Kenny laughs and extends the bowl to Tweek again, but he waves it off. Kenny retreats his arm and sets the bowl on the desk. “So how does your gaydar work with Mr. Scotch but not Craig?” Kenny turns his head to him; a smirk on his lips.

Tweek rolls his eyes but smiles. He looks away and bites his lip. _Is he too close to see the whole picture?_ “I don’t know; seems like it’d be more obvious.”

“It’s pretty damn obvious.”

Tweek remembers when Butters was sent away to conversion camp. They were thirteen. Craig was weirdly quiet about the whole thing. He was always quiet, yeah, but more so the weeks after Butters was sent away. He has never really questioned it much until now; he thought it was just Craig’s way of processing a horrible thing that happened to one of their classmates. He never considered that maybe Craig took it personally because he was also...

“Can we stop talking about Craig?” Tweek asks, eager to push away the thought.

“Sure.”

Kenny drops it because he knows when to stop. They leave Kenny’s house a little while later and go to Stan’s, where Kyle already is. They play _Mortal Kombat_ and eat pizza Stan’s mom bought. It is a nice night until Cartman shows up and starts being _Cartman_. Tweek takes that as a cue to leave.

He smokes a cigarette on the walk home, savoring it more than usual because it is the last of the pack. He is going to have to buy more off of Kenny’s brother, Kevin. Hopefully he will be able to get them soon.

The weather is cold. October nights in South Park are usually unfriendly. It comes every year, just the same, and yet, Tweek is never prepared for the transition. He currently only wears his green button up and ripped jeans. Leaves cover the sidewalk, crunching under his feet. He glances up at the cloudy night sky — not a star in sight tonight.

He continues to walk and his cigarette eventually meets its end. He puts the butt of it in his jean pocket because he once watched a documentary that stated cigarette butts take up 10 years to decompose. Sometimes he’ll ask Kevin to get him the easily decomposable ones, but they are a lot higher in price, and he already spends way too much money on nicotine.

As he walks down the streets of South Park, his mind again wanders to Craig. He knows he is grounded right now, but will they actually hang out when he is free of parental control? 

It seems they have been talking in school almost daily; it’s getting to the point where Tweek feels disappointed if they _don’t_ talk, which that is _bad._

He doesn’t want to expect anything from this, but he does, and he can’t stop thinking about how he said he wants to be friends again. He wants those words to mean something so badly but he doesn't know to trust them.

Just as he turns the corner to land on his own block, his phone dings.

When he pulls it out of his pocket, and looks at his lock screen, his heart skips a beat. The notification banner reads: _Craig Tucker._

He is shocked because _why would Craig be talking to him?_ and secondly, he thought Craig’s parents took away his phone? But he supposes that was nearly a week ago now.

He stops in his step and looks down at his phone; he is not one to text and walk. That is way too dangerous. He opens the text as fast as he can move his fingers and frowns at the message displayed; he does not know what he was really expecting though. ( _This is exactly what he is talking about.)_

  
  


**CRAIG:** hey did you get number 7 on that worksheet, I can’t find the answer in the book

A little rush of anxiety hits him — the same one that comes whenever anyone trusts him with pretty much _anything._ Craig is smarter than he is. Tweek’s answer is most likely wrong. He completed the worksheet but he is pretty doubtful of the answers.

**TWEEK:** I don’t think it’s right

 **CRAIG:** idc

 **TWEEK:** if u don’t care then y do u want my answer like just put something 

Tweek stares at the message. _Does that sound mean?_ He feels like it sounds mean. 

**TWEEK:** I mean like I will give it to u but ur wrong answer is prob better than my wrong answer

 **CRAIG:** show me what u put

Tweek sighs. He is still standing in place because not only does he fear walking and texting, but he is honestly very bad at it. He is unable to do it; unable to do most multitasking.

**TWEEK:** okkkk but I’m not home rn, but I will be in like 5 min so wait

 **CRAIG:** work?

 **TWEEK:** no I was at stans w Kenny n them, then Cartman came so I left

Tweek begins to walk. He glances down at his phone when it dings. He continues walking as he reads it but at a much slower pace.

**CRAIG:** o yeah, I’d leave too

He can’t help it. He thinks of the night at Kenny’s when Craig bolted out at sight of him. He sighs as his shoulders fall. He glances up to make sure he is not about to run into some tree before responding.

**TWEEK:** yeaaaaah he is the worst

 **CRAIG:** for sure 

Tweek bites his lip as he stares at the text. He has stopped in place again without even realizing it. His house is only four houses down now.

**TWEEK:** I thought ur phone was taken away

 **CRAIG:** I told them I have a homework question 

Tweek does not get it. He begins to walk again and quickens his pace. Token is not in the same class, and surely in AP, but he would probably still know the answer; definitely more capable of help than Tweek.

**TWEEK:** u should just keep saying u need it for hw

 **CRAIG:** I’m hoping they just don’t ask for it back

When Tweek gets home, the lights are off, which means his parents are still at the shop, making his mood immaculately better. He unlocks the door and heads up the stairs to dig out the worksheet from his backpack.

He finds it, and is instantly embarrassed that it is already crumpled after two days of possession. He tries to straighten it out on his desk before snapping a picture of the area with question seven displayed.

He sends it to Craig and adds:

**TWEEK:** I really have no clue, u should maybe ask someone smarter idk like it’s probably wrong ahfjkajdm!!! so sry in advance

 **CRAIG:** seems right

A moment passes where Tweek briefly considers further researching this question in order to avoid giving Craig the wrong answer.

**CRAIG:** I put it, thanks Tweek, I o u

Tweek stares at the text. It seems impossible. What could Craig possibly owe _him_ for? He has already spared him of two weeks of detention, on top of probably losing his job. Although, at the risk of sounding annoying because he has brought it up about a thousand times now, he refrains to another topic.

**TWEEK:** I wouldn’t speak too soon, u don’t even know it’s right 

**CRAIG:** w/e even if it isn’t u saved me the trouble of coming up w an answer

There is a pause and then another text follows.

**CRAIG:** I’m sure it is right tho

Tweek is sure Craig clearly doesn’t know _shit_ about American History either because Tweek spends half the class thinking about Craig nowadays, and has retained little to nothing. He is almost certain his answer is wrong even, and if Craig knew _shit_ about American History, at all, he would probably know it’s wrong too.

**TWEEK:** u r putting too much faith in me

**CRAIG:** nvr

Tweek stares at the three letters, his heart palpitating. It’s fucking stupid. It’s not even an _actual_ word. _Nvr._ Yet, he can’t stop fucking staring at it. He feels a whirlpool of emotion swirl in his stomach.

It’s stupid.

He is just joking. It’s just a _joke_ but the butterflies in his stomach and reddened cheeks don’t know that. 

He stares at his phone for a long time before he stands up from his desk and paces around the room.

He and Craig used to text a lot; everyday, for hours. He isn’t even sure what they _talked_ about but they texted _all the time._ Tweek wishes he could go back and read over those texts; spy out any possible indicators that he likes him, or at the very least, _boys_.

But the messages are too far gone.

Is this … _flirting?_

He wishes for an unbiased opinion. Bringing it up to Kenny is pointless. He would just say the same thing he always does, and unfortunately he has no one else he can bring it up to.

For this reason, Tweek will just have to assume that he is _not_ flirting.

**TWEEK:** u will change ur mind upon seeing ur grade

 **CRAIG:** my grade is already gonna be shit w/o ur help

 **TWEEK:** srslY? What have u been doing this whole time, haven’t u been grounded for like ever now

 **CRAIG:** they took away my ability to go anywhere

 **CRAIG:** little do they know I don’t want to go anywhere

 **CRAIG:** they let me keep my Xbox like they are so fucking dumb. It would have been more of a punishment to take my Xbox away than to not have to deal w Clyde crying about Bebe for the 100th time

Tweek stares at the text; the plethora of words and indication that he wants the conversation to keep going. He feels a little ripple go through his heart.

Craig is sort of an asshole, isn’t he? But he never is to him. He _knows_ he is one, has seen it, but he has never experienced it in regards to himself. He supposes that is pretty weird.

Well, except that _one_ time a couple weeks ago when he lashed out on him, but Tweek knows he was just hurting inside. He also apologized reasonably fast for it; his apology to Kenny delivered about a week later.

**TWEEK:** well it makes me feel better that i haven’t caused u too much trauma

 **CRAIG:** u haven’t caused me any trauma, I’m livin the dream

 **TWEEK:** ur dream is to hang out w the school janitor everyday?

 **CRAIG:** my dream is to suffocate him with a mop

Tweek laughs at the dark humor. He sits on his bed and lays downs on it so he faces the ceiling. He holds his phone above his face as he types. 

**TWEEK:** what’s so bad about him that u wanna commit murder

It takes a minute for Craig to begin to type, the (...) symbol coming to display. It calms him to see that. He was nervous the conversation was over and he was enjoying it.

**CRAIG:** he is just super racist and sexist and homophobic… he thinks president garrison derserves 3 terms

Tweek cringes at the thought; frowning. He harbors on the word _homophobic_ though. If by the very slight chance that he _is_ gay, that must be very hard to deal with. He sticks his tongue out a little as he tries to decide what to say.

He decides to go with a lighter tone response, even though that actually means a much darker one if taken literally.

**TWEEK:** ur dream of suffocating him w a mop has suddenly become mine as well

 **CRAIG:** :)

It’s a fucking smiley face. It’s not even a goddamn word, but warmth pools at the bottom of his stomach. He feels heat climbing up his neck and onto his cheeks.

_Fuck_. 

This is _bad._

He sets his phone down beside him and covers his face with his pillow. He should not be reacting this way to a fucking _smiley face_ from a most-likely straight boy.

He hears his phone ding again. He uncovers his face with the pillow and lets it fall to the side. He grabs his phone, happy that he can open it up so quickly with just the touch of his thumb.

**CRAIG:** it’s prob a bad idea tho, prison doesn’t have Xbox

 **CRAIG:** it would probably be lame

Tweek stares. He can’t help but smile. He is trying to continue the conversation. He recalls Clyde always calling Craig the most boring texter in the world. He never felt that way with Craig though. There was always conversation between them — always something to respond to.

**TWEEK:** yeah seems like it would be quite different from the luxurious grounding u have now

 **TWEEK:** have ur parents not asked for ur phone back?

**CRAIG:** I told them I was still doing hw

Tweek’s heart skips again. He bites down on the smile. 

He _wants_ to talk to him.

**TWEEK:** hahaha I wish homework could be this easy

It _is_ easy — texting Craig. Besides the nervousness and uncertainty, it’s _easy_. It’s always been easy talking to Craig though, in any medium.

**CRAIG:** if hw were these easy I would have straight A’s

Tweek wants to know if they are on the same wave length; if Craig means talking to _Tweek_ is easy or if it is just the act of texting itself; texting a _friend_ is easy, maybe.

He isn’t sure, but either way, he decides he is happy. He is happy to text Craig. Even if it is just as friends, he is happy to have him back in his life again, and _this;_ talking for hours about nothing over text feels _normal._ It feels like they are friends again; it makes him believe they are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact I cannot walk and text at the same time


	15. just another day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> happy Halloween everybody! 
> 
> I wanna give a big shout out to ambercreek95 for the help she has offered me for this story and chapter 😘 also thanks to everyone else because u r all so nice to me! and thanks to discord creek group for also being so nice n sweet (if u r interested in joining the creek server pls just ask for the link, all are welcome!) Thanks bye
> 
> ALSO
> 
> PLEASE GO LISTEN TO IM NOT IN LOVE BY 10CC, JEWBOYKAHL POINTED OUT THAT IT IS THE PERFECT SONG FOR THIS FIC AND IT SO SO SO IS. PLEASE LISTEN.

Craig has learned a lot about the school janitor in his nearly three weeks of working with him; he has one daughter, is divorced, and is _extremely_ homophobic.

Not long after the final bell, multiple students linger in the school hallways; two of those students being Kenny and Stan. They are in front of the boy’s locker room, which is adjacent to the art room, where Craig and the janitor move boxes in and out of. The school bought new art supplies to replace the old ones which requires a lot of heavy lifting and transportation.

Stan wears his football gear, ready for practice, and leans against the wall, holding onto the strings of Kenny’s sweatshirt in front of him. Kenny presses his hand against the wall near Stan’s head. They stand close together, mere inches apart. A glow encompasses them; the rest of the world in the shadows. They are far too wrapped up in each other to notice Craig or the janitor.

They look so happy and in _love_. Craig is happy for them. He won’t admit it, but he is. He watched Kenny pine over Stan for years. Kenny never quite admitted it, but at the same time, made it very apparent. They have been together for a little over a year now. Kenny has never seemed happier, nor Stan. He wonders what it is like to be inside their world; to be okay with who you are and who you want to be with; to express that in public and in the hallways of a high school, one of the most judgemental places on earth.

The janitor clearly does not harbor the same emotions Craig has for the couple. Craig notices the janitor’s expression change immediately upon seeing the couple. His once, expressionless face has turned into a scowl. He actually goes out of his way to _drop_ the box of art supplies onto the floor, causing a loud _thud_ to erupt.

The couple’s bubble pops. They both whip their heads up to the janitor. Kenny drops his hand from the wall, and Stan lets go of the string’s on Kenny’s sweatshirt, as the janitor glare increases in intensity. They both angle their bodies towards him.

“Hey! What are you kids doing! Shouldn’t you be in practice? And you young man — you aren’t allowed to be on school grounds without reason. You want a reason to be here? I’ll get ye a detention, and y’all be here with Craigy.”

Craig knows that he is in no actual relation to the janitor but he still heats up with embarrassment, and looks down in shame. He knows why the janitor is saying this to them. It’s because _they’re gay._ Through the last couple weeks, they have seen multiple straight couples interacting in the hallways after school hours. The janitor never said anything to them though.

“We aren’t doing anything wrong.” Stan says. Craig is not surprised. Stan is not the type to really back down from harassment, especially when geared toward his boyfriend. Craig just keeps his gaze on the box in his hands. He feels like he is going to throw up. “Practice hasn’t started yet, and Kenny is _allowed_ to be here.”

“You two shouldn’t be touching up on each other on school property, ye hear?”

“I’ve seen kids do a _lot_ worse.” 

“Well, not on my watch — scram. Get out of here. No one wants to see that.”

Craig tires to think of what anyone else would do in this situation. He thinks of Tweek. Tweek, the paranoid and anxious mess, but still less of a coward than himself. Tweek would probably stand up for his friends.

“See _what_ ?” Stan challenges. “We weren’t even _touching.”_

“It’s not worth it,” he hears Kenny say.

“You two get out of here, or you’ll be in a lot of trouble!”

“Let’s just go,” Kenny says.

Craig picks up his gaze with a deep inhale. He watches as Kenny pulls Stan away from the scene. He briefly makes eye contact with Kenny. The blond frowns, and Craig can't quite place the look he gives him.

As Kenny and Stan cut the corner of the hallway, the janitor picks up the fallen box and mumbles out, “goddamn _faggots_.”

Craig involuntary flinches at the word. He looks over to the man as he leans back up with the box. He is ugly. He is old and ragged. His skin is wrinkly and pasty, excess skin falling at every square inch. “What’s your problem? They weren’t doing anything wrong.”

The janitor laughs and shakes his head. “What are you one of _those_ too, boy? Yer daddy ain’t gonna be happy bout that.”

Craig’s heart drops. He looks away, clenching his jaw. “ _No_.” He says sternly. “But they are my friends, and you don’t need to be such an asshole to them.”

The janitor chortles as he steps away and towards the art room. “Oh ye I _do_ . Ain’t nobody like _that_ deserve any respect from me.”

Craig glares at the back of his bald head. He wants to say more, but shuts his mouth. He can’t risk sounding too offended, or invested. The janitor knows his father, and he doubts he is above starting rumors.

So he shuts up and continues to transfer boxes, listening to the old man complain about anything outside his own personal beliefs and values. He suffers through it, and reminds himself it’s almost over. He will be done with this fuckface by the end of the week. He just has to get through the next couple days.

  
  
  


At the end of his detention, he decides he is not ready to head home.

Instead, he heads outside to the football field. Nichole has cheerleading practice today. He feels like he needs to talk to her right now; needs to hear an update on her and Bebe. As much as he does not want Clyde to get hurt, he always knew Bebe was a lost cause for him. He needs a win; he needs Nichole to get Bebe. He is not sure if that makes him a shitty best friend. It might.

Maybe he will help Clyde find another girl. Maybe he will try to convince Heidi to drop Cartman, or Kyle, or whoever the fuck she is with, and go out with Clyde. He thinks Heidi will be a good match for him; motherly and caring; exactly what Clyde needs and wants.

If that doesn’t work out, maybe he will try to get Red to go out with him. He doesn’t really talk to her much, but in fourth grade, the whole school thought they were cousins, and that bloomed a mutual understanding between them. Red could be good for Clyde too; toughen him up a bit. Craig doesn’t want Clyde to get hurt, he really doesn’t, but for some reason, he is really rooting for Nichole and Bebe.

He spots the cheerleaders on the field; his eyes instantly falling onto Nichole and the two-puff-ball-pig-tails on top of her head. She is doing some sort of stunt with Bebe and Heidi. Nichole looks happy; is laughing and giddy. It reminds him of the glow that radiated of Stan and Kenny.

Craig looks over to the other side of the field and spots the football team. He doesn’t want to stare for long. He gulps. He knows he should not feel this way when staring at a group of males. He knows his eyes should not flicker down to the tight white pants that grip around their thighs and….

He looks away, pushing away the thought.

His dad got mad at him for not doing sports in high school, but if his dad knew the _reason_ for this, he knows he would be a lot angrier.

His eyes flicker to the bleachers and he spots Kenny.

He thinks about that unreadable look he gave him. It almost seemed pitiful.

He takes in a deep breath before moving towards the bleachers. Kenny spots him as he nears, and waves. He can’t tell if he is smiling or not because of the orange scarf covering his mouth.

He walks up to the bleachers and takes a seat next to Kenny, leaving enough space that two people could sit between them.

“Hey,” Craig greets.

“Hey,” Kenny says.

“Sorry about the janitor. He is a dick.”

“It’s not your fault, dude,” Kenny glances at him. There is still somewhat sadness in his eyes, Craig thinks. “People are dicks. I’m used to it… ,” his eyes trail off. Craig watches his gaze. He looks over to the football team, probably locking eyes on Stan. Craig just looks at his feet placed on the metal ground below him. “It’s more so Stan I’m worried about. I’ve been out for a long time. I don’t give a shit about people being a dick to me, but Stan — he’s … sensitive… and it took him a long time to accept himself. I just don’t want him to have to deal with homophobic assholes like that guy.”

Craig wants to ask Kenny if he _knew_ Stan was Bi before he came out. Was it obvious to him? Surely not. They basically began dating it seems right after Stan came out — at least Craig thinks this is true. He is not sure. He didn’t know Tweek was gay until a few weeks ago. Maybe Stan came out before he started dating Kenny, and Craig just didn’t know.

“He seemed like himself.” Craig says. “I mean, he didn’t seem too affected by it — he told him off.” _More than I could have done,_ Craig thinks, but then again, Stan has done a lot more than he can do.

“Yeah,” Kenny says, “but that doesn’t mean he is fine. I know Stan. He takes shit personally.”

Craig doesn’t know what to say. He feels like a jackass. He just stood there and watched; _hardly even watched_ , he could not even look up until it was over. He clears his throat. 

He only notices now how cold it is; goosebumps form under his jacket and over his arms. His face begins to go slightly numb.

“The janitor’s a jackass. You shouldn’t take anything from him personally — he’s just… bitter.”

Kenny looks over at him now. Craig looks up. Kenny arches up an eyebrow. “Bitter, huh? Bout what?”

Craig shrugs. He stares back at the field. He looks at the cheerleaders because they are the ones he is _supposed_ to be goggling at. “I don’t know. Everything? He is just a angry, belligerent, hick.”

Kenny lets out a dry laugh. “Welcome to South Park.”

Craig sighs. While South Park has become PC in recent years, bigots still hide in dark corners; a lot of them grouping up at Skeeter’s Bar. He wants to believe his father is better than a lot of them, but he isn’t so sure about that. He is not sure how his father acts at Skeeter’s Bar, surrounded by a bunch of drunken hicks, compared to at home, under the supervision of his family.

“My dad said he is a _good_ guy,” Craig says with a low chuckle. 

“I’m sure my dad would say the same.”

There is a pause. Cheerleader’s chants fill the empty space.

Craig inhales. “How do your parents… don’t they… _care_ about you dating Stan?”

Kenny shrugs. “Honestly? I think they are too drunk or high to really care. My mom told me to do what makes me happy. She said the only thing that makes her happy anymore is us kids and the drugs, so,” Kenny shrugs. Kenny looks down and buries his chin in his ratty, orange scarf. “My dad was a little pissed, but like I said, I think it honestly barely crosses his mind; perks of having meth heads for parents, I guess.”

He knows Kenny’s life is fucked; his parents neglectful, drug abusers, and yet, envy pricks at his insides; more and more holes poking through the image he has of himself. Kenny can be whoever he wants to be and it wouldn’t matter. He can date another boy without parental concern. 

He sighs and looks down.

“Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know. Just came to mind, and I never asked before.”

There is a beat. Craig can _feel_ Kenny staring at him, but he refuses to look back at him. “You don’t ask _many_ personal questions. You’re kind of an asshole like that.”

Craig lets out a breath. He cracks a smile, happy Kenny has diffused the tension with a joke. “Yeah, don’t get used to it.” Pause. “I didn’t really care anyways.” _Lie._

“Believe me, I won’t.”

Once practice is over, Kenny skips down the bleachers and into Stan’s arms. Craig wonders if the football team cares if Stan is gay, and if Stan _cares_ if they do.

He averts his eyes from the couple and locks his eyes on Nichole. He waves to her. She smiles and waves back. He heads down the bleachers, and meets up with her on the field as the rest of the cheerleaders disperse.

“Hey, Craig,” she greets him cheerily. “I didn’t realize I was so lucky of a girl to have you as an audience member.”

He laughs. It feels _relieving_ talking to a girl, and not having to worry about hurt feelings in the potential future. “I guess I just felt like catching up with you.” He pauses. “That, and I really didn’t want to go home.”

“Trouble at home?” She asks with a frown of concern. They begin to walk towards the school, trudging through the cool grass and cold wind. 

“Eh, it’s nothing. I’ve just been on house arrest for the past several weeks, and I’m beginning to get sick of it.”

“Sounds like misery.”

“It’s not that bad, but….,” he thinks of his dad, “I’m just sick of my parents.”

Nichole nods. “Understood. I can’t imagine spending that time with mine.”

Craig shouldn’t ask, but he does anyway. “Do your parents know you are….,” his voice trails. It is just occurring to him that he doesn’t even know what Nichole _is_. Is she a lesbian? Is she Bisexual? He never quite asked for a label until now.

“No,” she says. “I’m still trying to figure it out. It’s confusing… especially when the only person you think about is … Bebe,” she whispers, and follows with a sigh. Her eyes are on the group of cheerleaders, including Bebe, a few yards ahead of them. The group is almost at the entrance of the gym doors. “I just… I can’t even think about anyone else, you know?”

Craig swallows. He just stares at her and hopes that is a rhetorical question.

“It’s not like I don’t think guys are hot,” she shrugs. “And I don’t know — it’s _weird_ checking out other girls; I feel like I’m _violating them_. I sometimes feel like I’m just attracted to Bebe? But I don’t think that’s even true… It’s just … confusing,” her gaze falls onto the wet grass.

Craig feels useless. He has no idea how to really follow up to that.

“Do you… think … Is it going somewhere with Bebe?”

“I don’t know. She is so confusing. One minute, it feels like something’s there — the next, she’s talking about hanging out with Clyde.”

Craig briefly recalls Clyde mentioning something about hanging out with Bebe this Friday. Craig figured it was just Clyde being _hopeful._ In fact, he still thinks it might be Clyde being hopeful. Bebe cancels on him a lot.

“I think she might be confused too.” Nicole says. 

Craig bites his lip. The group of cheerleaders have retreated into the school. He and Nichole draw nearer the school doors. 

He sucks in a breath. 

“Yeah. Maybe she is.”

  
  


Maybe _he_ is too.

  
  
  
  


On his walk home, he thinks of Tweek. 

It’s not uncommon nowadays for this to happen; especially when he is alone. 

He has the urge to text him. The thought already sends flutters through his stomach and up his rib cage. He knows this is _wrong._ He knows he should not be feeling this way, nor thinking about him so much. It’s not how he is supposed to be. He is supposed to be thinking of girls this way, not Tweek. 

He should not feel this way. He should not want to text him so badly that his whole entire body aches to move his thumbs and send a message. The magnetic force is pulling; _dragging_ , and Tweek is not even near him.

It was a bad idea on his part to con his parents into giving him his phone back. After a couple promises that he was using his phone for school, his parents just eventually gave up and let him have it.

He stares at his phone.

He has been complaining to Tweek a lot about the janitor. Tweek said, “ _you can rant to me everyday if you want, it’s my fault you’re there,”_ and Craig took that as an open invitation. To be honest, though, some days he is not even annoyed by the janitor, he just needs an excuse to text him.

Today though, he has absolute reason to text Tweek. This is just about the worst thing the janitor has done thus far. It’s totally rational to want to text Tweek about it, he decides. 

**CRAIG:** u will not believe what fuckface did today

 **TWEEK:** is that what we’re calling him now?

 **CRAIG:** sounds like a good nickname for the fuckface to me

 **TWEEK:** lollllll ok well what did fuckface do today??

Craig sighs; thinking it over. He realizes now that he has never complained about people being homophobic before to Tweek. He thinks of his conversation with Kenny; thinking of what he said about Stan. He wonders if stuff still bothers Tweek.

Suddenly, he is not so sure this is a good idea; maybe he shouldn’t tell him about today.

**CRAIG:** he’s just a fucking asshole

 **TWEEK:** haha u say that everyday mannnn

 **TWEEK:** has there been a day where is has NOT been one

Craig thinks about it. No, actually.

**TWEEK:** This is why I think I owe you more than a cupcake

The corner of his mouth twitches into a small smile. 

There is something thrilling about texting Tweek; something that sparks his adrenaline and ignites a fire in his belly. A part of him thinks of his father; hears his father saying something about how boys aren’t supposed to make other boys feel this way. The other part of him though… _craves_ this feeling; feels deprived of this fucking feeling that Clyde and others are always going on and on about.

**CRAIG:** what could possibly be better than one of your cupcakes tho?

 **TWEEK:** uhhhhh idk i have to think of something, but ur a little hard to impress

He scoffs. He is not hard to _impress._ Is he? He is not amused by _much,_ but Tweek is the least of anyone to have to worry about that. 

**CRAIG:** uhhhhh no I’m not

 **TWEEK:** uhhhhhh u r 

**CRAIG:** then don’t do anything for me cuz it’s fine

 **TWEEK:** it’s not fine!!!! U have to deal with that fuckface everyday. I’m gonna do something nice for u, whether u like it or not!

Craig chuckles softly at the prospect of Tweek doing something nice for him and _not_ liking it. 

**CRAIG:** do u really think that I’m that big of an asshole that i wouldn’t like something nice u did for me?

 **TWEEK:** from what i hear, yes

 **CRAIG:** u talk to Kenny too much

 **TWEEK:** u didn’t let me finish

 **TWEEK:** from what i hear, yes

 **TWEEK:** from what i know

 **TWEEK:** no

Craig feels a warm glow everywhere in his body. He has never cared much about people liking him, but with Tweek, it’s different. He _wants_ to be seen as something more than just a stoic and pissed off asshole.

He stares at his phone screen, unsure what to say.

He huffs out a bit of air. 

He decides to offer a symbol of what he’s feeling; wishing that somehow Tweek will know he is smiling in real life, just as he is over text.

**CRAIG:** :)

Then, when Tweek replies back, with:

**TWEEK:** :)

His smile expands; stretching wildly across his face and to his ears, his once brutal day now slightly better.

He lets out a small sigh of content as he sends the next text, not wanting the conversation to end.

**CRAIG:** so, what r u up to?

  
  
  


The text conversation extends through the rest of the afternoon and evening; the night swooping in, and the conversation still going. They text until Craig’s eyes feel droopy, and his mind heavy.

Their text conversation ends with _goodnight,_ and the entire exchange revs up again tomorrow; the cycle continuing; the snowball rolling bigger and bigger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry I know there wasn’t a ton of creek interaction in this one but hope u still like it


	16. wonderful tonight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank u so much to all u lovely supports! And thanks soooo much to ambercreek95 who has helped me brain storm and come up ideas for this ;;__;; u have been so much help, and i hope you enjoy this chapter <3 
> 
> And also this chapter is a little long... sorry! :) i also idk... how i feel... bout it.... Lemme know??????? <3 love u guys

He sees a good amount of faces at the South Park Whole Foods. 

Most are irrelevant faces, such as Wendy Testaburger’s parents or Jimmy Valmer’s father. Today is different though as the two faces seemingly relevant to him. Today, the faces belong to Craig’s parents. They are second in line, behind some random face. They haven’t caught sight of him yet. Maybe they don’t recognize him. 

Maybe they just do not _care._

He catches the end of their conversation as he scans the items of the customer in front of them.

“You don’t think he’s been grounded long enough? I don’t want him to become some depressed, shun-in, Thomas.”

“I don’t like his friends — not that McCormick kid, at least. That’s probably where he got the cigarettes from,” Tweek’s heartbeat stills, “you said you didn’t have anything missing.” Not only did he get Craig in trouble, but now his parents are blaming _Kenny?_

“I have a coupon.”

Tweek blinks and turns to the old woman in front of him. She fishes for the coupon out of her purse and hands it to him. As Tweek scans it, he tries to listen in, but he has missed some dialogue.

“Laura. The people you hang out with have a large impact on you. If I hadn’t met you in high school, who knows if I would have ever turned around.”

“Uh, your total is $67.63,” he tells the older woman in front of him. 

The customer pulls out a $50 and a $20 bill from her purse, and hands it to him. Then, just as he is about to tap “70” into the register, she says, “wait! I think I have the change.”

Tweek resists a sigh, but waits. At least he didn’t already type it in. _That_ would be annoying because is bad at math, and always struggles to come up with the correct change on his own. In those times, it always worries him for the rest of the day that the drawer will be uneven.

As she digs out change, he eavesdrops. It may be an invasion of privacy, but is a conversation about _Craig._

“ _Laura,_ it’s not your fault Craig smoked — I’m telling you… it’s the McCormick kid… and besides him being a bad influence… you know, he’s….”

“ _Gay,_ Thomas?” Laura says, annoyance clear in her tone.

Tweek’s heart once again stops. The older woman hands him the change, and he types “70.63” into the register. 

“Is it really bad that I don’t want my boy hanging around someone like that?”

“Have a nice day,” he hands the change back to the older woman and forces a smile. He feels shaky all a sudden; his bones suddenly feel like they are made of puddy. He swallows as the older woman walks away and the Tuckers move closer to him. He begins to scan their groceries. They have to remember him. It hasn't been that long.

“You’re being homophobic, Thomas! We’re in a fucking Whole Foods.”

Tweek keeps his head down as he scans the items. His entire spine shoot up with nerves. He draws in a slow breath, trying to compose himself.

“I’m not homophobic! Alright? I just… I don’t want it in _my_ house.”

“That’s homophobic.”

Tweek’s hands shake as he scans the items. He attempts to move faster, and drops a box of macaroni in the process. He hastily picks it back up and scans it. 

“I don’t think it is. I just want what’s best for him.”

Laura lets out an exasperated sigh.

The conversation dies; the hum of the grocery store crowd taking its place. When Tweek scans all the items, he summons his courage to look up and meet Laura Tucker in the eyes. “Uh, y-your total will be $48.98.”

Thomas sighs somewhat, as if not expecting this price, and pulls his wallet from his pocket. Laura nods, and then, smiles. “Didn’t know you worked here, Tweek.”

“O-oh, yeah,” Tweek nods. _I am only still employed here because of your son._ “Started about almost a month ago now.”

Thomas hands him $50. He takes it, and briefly meets him in the eyes. He has a soft, round face and Craig’s eyes. He does not look like someone who would be homophobic. He types in “50” to the register as the feeling of unease grows larger in his belly.

“How do you like it?” Laura asks.

Tweek grabs two pennies from the drawer and hands it to Thomas Tucker. Thomas takes it and shoves it in his pocket. Tweek flicks his eyes to Craig’s mother. “It’s good. They are good employers.”

“That’s good, honey,” she says, but she is already detached from the conversation. She grabs onto the cart and Thomas follows; the tension between them is evident in the way they avoid each other’s gaze. They both wear straight, tight lines across their lips. “You have a nice rest of your day, sweetie.” Laura eyes him with a tight and forced smile.

He holds up a hand to wave. “Thanks, you too.” 

Thomas gives him an awkward nod. Tweek nods back; eerie of him. He is not sure Thomas Tucker knows of his sexual orientation; he is not as popular as Kenny seems to be. Any gossip about Tweek Tweak is usually centered around his parents coffee-meth buisness.

He wonders if Craig knows his father doesn’t want him around Kenny because he’s into boys. 

Would Craig stop being friends with Kenny because of his father? And if so, what does that mean for Tweek? What if that is the reason they stopped being friends _before?_

He thinks about it for the better half of his shift; his mind on Craig as he scans through various items. He doesn’t think Craig would do that, but his doubt and fear always seem to win against logic. He is cursed with the burden of emotions. Emotions possess and grab his thoughts. They throw them down a deep, dark well of uncertainty, and once he goes down that well, he usually has difficulties getting back up. 

* * *

He wakes up with a smile today; it’s his last day of detention. He truly never thought this day would come. In his educational career, he has never had four weeks straight of detention; three of those weeks being forced to work with a slimy janitor.

His mother congratulates him for not getting any more detentions in the meantime. Craig flips her off in response.

Clyde picks him up for school, as he does most days, in his red convertible; the top up, and probably perpetually until May.

Craig announces to his friend that his days of detention are finally over, to which Clyde, similar to his mother says, “I’m sure you will be back in no time.”

Craig flips him off too.

Clyde follows it with, “I still don’t understand why you had so much detention in the first place.”

Craig just shrugs, “I dunno.” He doesn’t have to explain himself. He has always been known for being a _bad kid._ Detention is common for Craig.

“Well, I _think,_ we should celebrate,” Clyde says. “You wanna come over tonight?”

“I might still be grounded.” He thinks of what Nichole said the other day, and says, “aren’t you supposed to be hanging with Bebe anyways?”

“Oh, you know, Bebes, she’s busy — she has a _life._ It’s fine. I don’t even care… _but_ I could really use the company… _not_ because of that, like I don’t _care_ she canceled for the third time in a row.” Clyde says, eyes focused intently on the road, his voice an octave and speed higher than usual. “Like, who is _counting?_ But it’s been so long, I miss my best bro,” he glances over at Craig with a tight smile.

“Please just keep your eyes on the road…” Craig requests, feeling unsettled with Clyde’s obvious emotional turmoil. Clyde listens and looks back at the road, swerving out of the way of a parked car. Craig sighs. He admires the orange and yellow trees as they drive past them, knowing they will fall of color soon. “I will have to ask my parents.”

“ _Lame_ ,” Clyde yells. “Come on, Craig, thought you weren’t such a _pussy.”_

Craig rolls his eyes. “I work tonight anyway, but maybe I can swing by after.”

“Sweet! I’ll round up the troops!” Clyde lights up. Craig, although won’t admit to it, is happy this will cheer Clyde up slightly. He feels bad about Bebe. “Time for a classic Craig and Those Guys Mess-Around.”

“That’s not a thing.”

“Oh, it _is,”_ Clyde laughs. “You know it is, don’t lie.”

Craig shakes his head. He looks at the trees again as they pass them by. This is good. Things have been strange lately. It will be nice to just spend time with his friends again; maybe it will take his mind off Tweek.

* * *

In the middle of his shift, he receives a text from Tweek that completely shatters that illusion.

**TWEEK:** hey Clyde invited me over tonight, he said you’ll be there….. Uh idk maybe this is weird!!! But I just wanted to ask if u are going, I mean he said u are but ya

_What. The. Fuck._

He switches his messages over to Clyde.

**CRAIG:** u invited Tweek?

 **CLYDE:** yeah??? u said u were fine hanging w him??? thought it would be fun

 **CRAIG:** it is fine but…. idk I’m more of his friend than u r? dont u think I should have invited him??

 **CLYDE:** hey don’t be an asshole, Tweek likes me too, it’s my house, y would u invite HIM to MY house

 **CRAIG:** when do u even talk to him

 **CLYDE:** when do U???

 **CRAIG:** we talk a lot actually 

**CLYDE:** ok well then if ur friends y u so weird about me inviting him

 **CRAIG:** I just think u feel like u r friends w everyone and ur not

 **CLYDE:** fucking harsh dude, sorry I’m not antisocial like u!!!! I invite ppl to hang when I want to be friends w them! It’s not weird, ur just antisocial and shy

 **CRAIG:** I’m not shy, I just hate everyone

 **CLYDE:** whatever dude!!!!!

Craig cannot register this emotion as anything else but possession. It’s how he felt back when they were children. He wants Tweek for himself; he wants to be the one to invite him. He wants the validation that Tweek likes him more than Clyde or the others.

He finally texts Tweek back.

**CRAIG:** yeah! Ill be there

He stares at it a long time before he sends it. He doesn’t normally use exclamation marks, but he wants to right now for some reason. He just wants to show that he is being friendly. He thinks that is why people use those anyway.

* * *

After his shift, he goes to Clyde’s house. He doesn’t tell his parents, instead claims his shift is extended.

He walks into the house, far from being someone to knock, and Clyde’s father greets him from the family room. He twists his body towards him from his position on the couch and waves jovially. “Hey there, Craig! Boys are in the basement!” Clyde’s father always looks like he is straining to smile. It creeps Craig out.

He heads down the basement and sees his group of friends, and _Tweek_ . Something about is different; seeing him out of school _feels_ different. He heads downstairs cautiously, feeling a slight swirl to his stomach.

“Craig, the man of the hour!” Clyde annocues, throwing his hands up at him. Craig rolls his eyes at him. He glances around the crowd, at Token, Jimmy and Tweek. Tweek’s smile slightly stills him; his eyes lingering longer on him than the rest.

He inhales and looks away. Clyde is playing _Juice Wrld_ on his Bluetooth speaker. A bowl of chips sits on the coffee table. Craig has brought a box of pizza for the group.

Clyde pushes the bowl of chips to the side and Craig places the pizza box beside it. The boys go wild for it. They lean and push forward, attempting to be the first one to open it — well, at least Jimmy, Clyde, and Token. Tweek instead glances up at him, and smiles tenderly while he says, “thanks for the pizza, Craig.”

His heart swells sleighty; his stomach whirling even more now and into a knot. He doesn’t know why it is different to see Tweek out of school. It should be exactly the same, but isn’t.

“Thanks — I mean you’re welcome…” he bows his head down; his cheeks full with heat. He hears Tweek laugh. Thankfully, he does not think the others heard.

He takes a seat on Clyde’s swivel chair at the end of the coffee table. He keeps his head down, refusing to look at Tweek again.

“Craig this pizza is ass.”

“Yeah, it’s shitty.”

“T-this p-piz-pizza tastes like cardboard.”

“Why do you think I’m not eating it?”

“It’s not that bad; better than the school’s,” Tweek says. He glances over at him. He holds a slice now; some of it gone. Of course it is Tweek who is grateful, instead of just annoying like his other friends.

Craig is about to respond, but Clyde jumps in.

“Anything is better than the school’s cafeteria food. If that’s the standard then _fuck,_ this may as well be a Gordon Ramsey dish.”

“Y-you c-could t-t-take a dump on this pizza, and it’d still be better than the cafeteria food.”

The group of boys laugh. Craig cracks a smile. He swivels in his chair and glances at Tweek again; the blonde laughs with a nod, his eyes on Jimmy. He sits at the end of the couch closest to him, Clyde next to him, and Token on the other side. Jimmy sits on an old, ratty chair on the other side of the coffee table.

He admires Tweek’s ability to just be able to get along with the group; to get along with any group, really. He told Clyde he wasn’t shy earlier, but that’s not true. He often finds it difficult making new friends. He struggles to strike up conversations that don’t automatically run dry in a few minutes. 

“Should we try it out?” Clyde asks and looks at Jimmy; a boyish grin on his face.

“Sick, man!” Tweek nearly shouts. “Can you not? I’m actually trying to _enjoy_ this, I don’t want to think about your feces as one of the toppings.”

Craig bites down on his smile and looks down at the pizza box on the coffee table.

“I agree with Tweek. Why can’t we ever just eat in peace without someone saying something disgusting?” Token asks.

“You’re asking too much of Clyde. He-he is al-al-always dis-dis-dis-dis— _gross_.” Jimmy says. 

“Hey,” Clyde frowns. He shoves the rest of his pizza into his mouth. As to just prove the statement further, he chews with his mouth open and says, “I'm not gross!”

“Uh, have you _seen_ your car?” Craig finally jumps in; always down for some heckling against his best friend.

Clyde turns to him, his face twisted up. “You can’t talk shit about my car! I give you a ride to school everyday, and I _would_ give you a ride home if you could just fucking stay out detention.”

Craig notices how Tweek ducks his head down at the mention of detention. “All I’m saying is, talk shit, walk to school.”

“Craig, if you need a ride, I got you,” Token nods to him with a grin as he takes another slice of pizza from the box. 

“Hey, stay out of this, Token!” Clyde glares at their mutual friend.

“He brought us pizza, dude.”

“ _Shitty_ pizza.” Clyde says before leaning in to take another slice. Craig rolls his eyes at the display of hypocrisy.

“H-he-hear we go again.”

The pizza box gradually empties; Craig the only one who refrains from a slice. The boys go back and forth with crude jokes until Clyde pulls up some stupid YouTube video on the television to show them. The only one who finds it entertaining is Jimmy. 

Craig briefly looks over at Tweek, who frowns at the television. He glances at Token on the other side of Clyde, whose eyes are locked on his phone.

Craig feels quite sheepish in his pizza delivery boy outfit; a red polo shirt and dorky khaki pants. He abandoned the hat and switched it out for his blue chullo, but the rest of the ensemble is awful enough to be self conscious over.

He looks down at his black Adidas shoes. He wears them everyday; no matter the outfit; exchanging them out for boots in the winter. He glances down at Tweek’s combat boots. They are more stylish. Tweek shows no resistance in fashion expression. Craig has noticed that Tweek wears converse, vans and combat boots; far more variety than a pair of adidas sneakers. Most of the time Tweek wears skinny jeans or cargo pants; usually paired with a button up or a sweater. All Craig wears are jeans and sweatshirts, along with some graphic tees.

“Today was your last day of detention, right?”

Craig glances up at Tweek and nods. 

“That must be a relief.”

“Yes,” Craig says, “please, for the next year and half, make a fucking mess of that schoool.”

Tweek laughs.

“If only it were a grade school. Kids would be throwing up everywhere.”

“I’ll sneak Tricia and a few of her friends into the high school, and I'm sure that will do the job.”

“Isn’t she, like, in middle school now?”

“No idea.”

“You’re awful,” Tweek grins.

“I’m not surprised,” Token suddenly joins in on the conversation. Craig almost forgot his other friends were there. He flashes his eyes over to his dark skinned friend. “Craig only ever pays attention to his guinea pigs.”

Craig flips him off. “Get new material, rich kid.”

Token laughs.

He doesn’t truly care about the comment, but something irks inside him that Token interrupted their conversation. _Now_ , _Token_ laughs and talks with Tweek. As their conversation furthers between the two; envy sprouts further inside him, growing through his stomach and into his rib cage. The seed of envy has always been there, since he was a kid. He hasn't felt it in awhile though, not until today. It sprouted when Clyde said he invited Tweek, and only grows as he watches Tweek and Token converse.

It seems to be so easy for Token to talk to him; no avoidance of eye contact, no awkward swells of silence. He wants Tweek’s attention. He wants Tweek as _his_ friend. He wants to be the one Tweek focuses on, but he is boring, and Token is smart, driven, and friendly. 

He sucks in a breath and tries to entertain himself with the video on the television. It is some prank video where a guy hires an electrician to plug in his PS4. It’s so unbelievably stupid, but also so unbelievably Clyde.

* * *

Around 11pm, his parents ask where he is. He lies and says he is dropping off his last pizza, and then heading home. He wants to stick around because Tweek is still here. The envy inside him has blossomed even further now as he watches him interact with the group. He’s glad he’s having fun, but he just wonders if Tweek likes them _more_ than he likes Craig. He has never been so insecure about a friendship. Even through their childhood, he always worried about losing the right to call Tweek _his_ friend.

It’s clear tonight, though, Tweek isn’tjust _his_ friend. Clyde invited him. Token chat with him. It’s clear to him that Tweek and Jimmy have hung out on their own terms over the last year and half. In fact, Jimmy probably is closer friends with Tweek than he is, himself.

The idea twists the roots of his jealousy inside his stomach; the envy becoming a tangled, balled up mess. 

He doesn’t want to go, but he has to.

“I got to get going,” Craig says as he stands up. “My parents are wondering where I am.”

“It’s so early!” Craig whines. 

“Since when do you care about your parents?” Token asks.

“I’m trying to stay out of trouble. Is that so wrong?”

“I’m personally proud, Craig,” Token sets a hand on his heart. 

“I’m not!” Clyde whines again. He stands up and sets his hands on his shoulders. “You gotta stay, dude! We haven’t even watched the new Ariana Grande music video yet!”

Craig resists the urge to sigh as he jerks away from Clyde’s touch. “I’ll watch it on my own time.”

Clyde groans slightly but says, “ _fine,_ but text me what you think.” 

“Uh, you think you could give me a ride actually? I work early tomorrow morning,” Tweek asks suddenly, still planted on the couch. He looks up with wide eyes and closed lips. 

Craig opens his mouth to say _yes,_ but Clyde jumps in. “Dude! Seriously? You too! You’re gonna miss Ariana!”

Tweek just stares blankly a moment before he lets out a laugh. Craig can’t resist to laugh alongside him. He ignores Clyde, and looks down at Tweek. “Yeah, no problem.”

“Cool.” Tweek nods with a smile and stands up.

Token and Jimmy laugh too, clearly in on the joke.

“What’s so funny!” Clyde demands as he searches the mass of his friend’s faces. 

Tweek chuckles a bit. He clears his throat. “I think you’re the only one who doesn’t know, but, uh, I’m gay, Clyde.”

Clyde’s jaw drops in apparent shock. His eyes bulge.

“I still do like Ariana though.”

“Oh _dude!_ I’m sorry!” Clyde nearly shouts with wide eyes. He pulls Tweek into a hug, which both shocks and annoys Craig; that ball of envy swiping the smile on his face for a frown. Tweek hugs him back and laughs awkwardly. “That’s awesome, dude! I fully support you. I’m so happy you feel comfortable enough to tell me that.”

Craig is, kind of, _shocked._ He never thought Clyde was homophobic or anything, but he never expected him to be so supportive. It’s awkward, for sure, but nice.

Clyde lets Tweek go and Tweek fumbles away, letting out a breathy laugh. Craig swallows and looks away. He clears his throat, “well now that that’s out of the way… we should really get going.”

Tweek nods and follows him up the stairs. The rest of the group says their goodbyes as they exit. Craig glances back at Tweek as they ascend up the staircase. Tweek smiles at him. In response, Craig flashes a small smile back at the blonde before he ascends the rest of the staircase.

* * *

  
  
  


Tweek follows Craig out of Clyde’s house. They have not talked much since his encounter with the Tuckers yesterday evening. They spoke in school for a brief minute or two, and then again at Clyde’s, but he wasn’t going to bring it up around the group.

He does not even think he should bring it up _now,_ but he keeps thinking about it. He keeps _worrying_ about it. Craig seems normal with him, but what if all that changes soon? What if his father says something to him, and he loses Craig as a friend?

He just got him back. 

He doesn’t want to lose him _again._

Tweek hops into the passenger seat. He’s been in the car before, but never in the passenger seat. He sat in the backseat when Craig’s father drove them around as children. Craig either sat in the passenger seat, or beside him, never the driver’s seat.

“It’s weird being in here without your dad,” Tweek says as Craig adjusts the heat. Tweek notices the small stretch of a smile that glosses Craig’s face as he says the words.

“It’s great, isn’t it?”

Tweek can’t help but giggle. 

The air coming out of the vents is cold, the ventilation system struggling to convert the cool outside air into warmth. Craig hooks up his phone to the aux cord and plays “The Boxer” by Simon & Garfunkel. It further pushes Tweek into the past, as Craig’s father always played this type of music on the road.

“Now you’re really making me feel like we’re kids again… all we need is some violent yelling and honking, and we’re there.”

Craig chuckles, and Tweek feels satisfied, knowing Craig is not the type to easily be amused. He watched him through various parts of the night. Craig remained stoic most of the time, but now, as they are alone, he can get Craig to chuckle. He smiles to himself at this.

Craig puts the car into drive. “He is a very aggressive driver, but I do like his music taste.”

Tweek’s smile fades a bit. He exhales softly as he stares straight ahead. Tweek has always known Thomas Tucker as a strong conservative. He fit in with most of the hicks of the town, but he was somehow tolerable and _likable,_ despite this _._ It was nice to be around him, especially since his father was so goddamn terrible. He felt like he was how a dad was _supposed_ to be; taking them to Broncos games, passing out on the couch from too many beers, and screaming at traffic. He felt like a real person, as opposed to Tweek’s father who seemed more alien than anything. He liked that Craig and his father often flipped each other as a sign of affection. He liked that his father sang in the shower and snored, facts that Craig always used to complain about. He _liked_ his father.

Maybe he still does, even if his father probably hates _him_. Craig’s father may not know he is gay now, but if he did find out, he would hate Tweek.

He knows this should make him hate Thomas Tucker, but it strangely doesn’t. Instead, it just makes him feel sad and _worried._ It kind of makes him hope for the first time ever that Craig _isn’t_ gay so he can bypass the trauma.

“Speaking of your dad…,” Tweek cautiously starts, “I actually ran into him and your mom the other day at Whole Foods.”

Craig stops at a stop sign. He glances both ways before he moves forward.

“Oh?” Craig says. “How was that?” He asks, although he doesn’t sound too interested.

Tweek clears his throat. “Uh, good,” he says meekly. “Your mom said hi, and your dad acknowledged me.” He notices Craig smile at those words. He bites his lip before he continues. “Uh, I sort of overheard them talking about you…”

Craig eyes him briefly before looking back at the road. “Oh. What did they say?”

Tweek runs a hand through the back of his hair. He pulls on some of the back ends and thinks of his therapist, and _trichotillomania._ He exhales in a hurry and puts his hands under his thighs so he cannot rip his hair out. “Well, they were talking about you and your punishment, and … then, Kenny.”

He watches Craig’s face as he says their friend’s name. There is the slightest bit of movement in his face; the slightest glint of panic in his eyes. “What about him?” He asks.

Tweek fidgets in his seat. The air suddenly seems thicker. Craig stops at another stop sign. Tweek feels like his vocal chords are all stuck together with glue.

“Tweek?” Craig looks over at him.

He looks back and frowns. He can’t get the words out. He looks down. 

“Tweek… Are you… okay?”

Tweek inhales as his shoulders risie. “This is… I don’t know stupid.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

Tweek notices they are stuck at the stop sign. Craig does not move forward, his foot stuck to the brake pedal like the words stuck in Tweek’s throat.

“Did they… did they say something homophobic?” He hears Craig ask, his voice tight and low. It makes his heart squeeze. He looks up and nods solemnly. Craig frowns as they keep their eye contact. Luckily, no one is behind them. They definitely would have laid on the horn by now.

Craig sighs.

“I’m sorry,” he says, straight into Tweek’s eyes.

“You don’t have to… You don’t need to apologize for your parents.”

Craig inhales through his nose and adjusts his frown into a straight line. He looks at him a moment longer before he accelerates and moves past the stop sign. “I do… I don’t know… you shouldn’t have to deal with that shit. It’s embarrassing.”

“I mean… it was just … your dad. Your mom seemed pretty cool. I mean… she said Kenny was gay, when he is bi, but I’m sure she doesn’t know any better.” The words have found their way _now;_ his nerves lubricating his throat so they all just slide out. “And like, it’s not… It’s not even that I’m _offended …_ I just… I’m… worried, I guess.”

“Worried?” Craig asks. He keeps his eyes on the road. There is a long pause. “About what?” His voice seems tighter than usual.

“Well, um… I heard your dad saying he didn’t want you hanging out with Kenny because, uh, he’s bi… well, he didn’t even say that… he couldn't bring himself to say it at all, actually… ah, then that’s when your mom said he was _gay_ , and uh… yeah. I suppose… I guess I just was worried that you would listen to him, and then, then… _we_ would stop being friends…” Tweek says the words, focused on the road in front of them. He cannot look at Craig. It’s easier to talk to the dark road ahead instead to his friend, who seems more closely to a black hole, than a friend.

Craig doesn’t answer right away. The song changes to “Heroes” by David Bowie. Tweek looks down at his lap. His hands are still tucked beneath his thighs.

“Tweek…” Craig sucks in a breath. “I wouldn’t. I wouldn’t do that.”

The words finally give him enough courage to look over to the other male. Craig stares back at him, and Tweek realizes that Craig is not a black hole, but a light. His heart swells slightly. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile. Craig turns back to look at the road. “I wouldn’t do that to Kenny… and I surely wouldn’t to you.”

Tweek doesn’t know why the “ _surely”_ means so much to him, but it does.

Craig pulls up to Tweek’s house a minute or so later, and puts the car into park. He looks over to Tweek after doing so. “My dad… he gave me that bull shit talk about Kenny a little while ago.”

Tweek frowns, unsure what to say, really. 

“But… fuck him. Kenny is a good person, and so are you, no matter who you like.” Tweek’s frown once again turns into a timid smile. Craig seems sad though; seems more upset than he possibly should be at his dad’s suggestion. 

Tweek waits to see if Craig will say more, but he doesn’t. Instead, his eyes flicker down at the console. Tweek bites his lip. He can almost _feel_ the hurt inside him. “Yeah… I agree. It doesn’t matter who you like… it just matters what kind of person you are.”

Craig nods, but he can still see and _feel_ the hurt that looms inside his friend.

He bites his lip. He doesn’t want to leave him in this state. In order to ease the tension, he tries to make a joke. “Unless you like Cartman… then I think there is something extremely wrong with you.”

This makes Craig laugh a little bit. The satisfaction from earlier returns and manifests itself into a smile. Craig meets his eyes again and Tweek can practically _feel_ his pupils dilating. He wonders if Craig can see them enlarge. He sucks in a breath.

“Yeah. I am definitely Cartman-phobic.”

Tweek giggles and nods. He would do anything to capture _this_ Craig; this happy, lighthearted Craig with softness in his hazel eyes and beautiful curve to his smile. They stare at each other for the next moment, until the current song ends and turns into “Wonderful Tonight” by Eric Clapton. The love song shakes them both out of the moment. Both boys look away and into the dark, night street instead; it a much less frightening sight, all of sudden.

Craig clears his throat. “I’m kind of sick of this song,” he says. _Skip._ The next one that plays is “Hold the Line” by Toto, a much less romantic song. 

Tweek is about to say goodbye, considering they have been outside Tweek’s house for at least thirty seconds now, but then Craig begins to speak again. “Sorry… if when you came out, I was weird about it. Watching Clyde… like… with you tonight. It made me think of the way _I_ reacted… should I have been more, I don’t know, encouraging?”

Tweek laughs and looks back up at the boy beside him. “You reacted fine. You reacted like _you_ would… and that’s perfectly fine.” He offers a smile.

Craig nods, his face blank of expression. “Okay… well, just in case you didn’t know… I support you too.”

Tweek’s smile widens. He probably looks like an idiot. He feels his cheeks heat up. “Thank you, Craig.”

Craig nods; blank expression across his face. “Sure thing.”

“And thank you for the ride.”

“Anytime — well, anytime I have my dad’s car,” he offers a shy smile.

Tweek giggles and nods. He unlocks his seatbelt and opens the passenger door. Craig watches him. “Thanks,” Tweek says again. “I had fun tonight!”

“Me too,” Craig nods. “You should hang out with us more often.”

“I’d like that,” Tweek says as he steps out of the car. He smiles at Craig as he stands on the sidewalk and waves at him. “I’ll see you Monday.”

“See you.”

Tweek notices how Craig sticks around until he gets inside his house. The tiny gesture sends warmth throughout his stomach. No one has ever done that before. No one has ever stuck around to see if he gets in safely. It shouldn’t mean a lot, but does. In fact, he goes to bed that night thinking about it, and thinking about all the rest of things that Craig has done for him. 

He falls asleep with a smile on his lips, and to the thought of Craig Tucker. 

  
  
  
  



	17. Tesla

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! thank u so much for the support everyone, and thanks sooooooo much ambercreek95 for helping me w ideas, and letting me bounce ideas of her. also thank u to jewboyhkahl for talking to me so much about activist Tweek and inspiring me with their own comrade Tweek in their fics ~ you can kind of see a glance of that side of Tweek in this chapter. 
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy :——)

Today, Tweek arrives on time for morning announcements. Although, even when he is present, he doesn’t normally pay much attention, but today, when Stan says, “the play this year will be The Normal Heart,” he suddenly finds himself listening. “If you’re interested in auditioning; auditions will be held on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday of next week.”

“Let’s get to it Cows!” Nichole smiles brightly at the screen. “Cheerleading and Football season are officially over as Kyle said previously. The Cows lost their final game of the season this previous weekend; therefore not going any further along, freeing up a lot of people’s afternoons.”

“Jeez, Nichole,” Stan looks at her with a frown. “Harsh.”

She looks at him and shrugs before turning her head back to the camera. Her smile expands again. “So, if you aren’t doing anything anyways — try out! The arts are accepting of everyone, even if you are not an actor.”

“That’s right,” Stan says. “Make up artists, costume designers, and stage hands are also needed.”

Tweek is shocked with the choice of the play. He knows South Park has been moving forward with an extreme PC agenda lately, but he never thought it would reach this extent. The Normal Heart is one of his favorite movies; it takes place in New York during the 1980’s; plenty of the characters gay. He has never seen the play, but he would love more than anything to be part of it.

Tweek has always been interested in theater, but he has always feared trying out. Freshman year, he was too drugged out on adderall to really engage in anything, but last year, he almost tried out. He sat in the back of the auditorium and just watched auditions; contemplating the whole time if he should sign up for the following day of auditions. Then, the last day of auditions came, and Tweek still never signed his name to the list.

When the Spring Musical came, Tweek vouched out again; not much of a singer. He was, however, involved in other ways with the Spring Musical. He played the piano, hidden away in the orchestra pit. He watched the actors on stage with stars in his eyes. He was safe in the orchestra pit. If he messed up, no one would be able see him, at least. If he was on stage, that wouldn’t be the case.

“If you’re interested, scripts are available from Ms. Prevost.”

Tweek tunes out the rest of the announcements, only realizing they are over once someone turns the lights back on. His teacher is quick to start the lesson, not prone to waste any time, unfortunately.

By the time Craig walks into the classroom, their teacher is already deep into the lesson plan for the day; Thomas Edison and his inventions. Tweek tunes her out and continues to think over the play, but when the word “project” escapes the teacher’s lips, his attention is on her. 

She begins to pass out rubrics down each of the aisles; the class groaning quietly in protest. 

“Oh, stop it,” she repremends them. You will pair up with someone, up to your own choosing, and create a powerpoint presentation on one of Thomas Edison’s inventions. The presentation should be at least 15 minutes long, and no longer than 20. I will give you some time now to choose partners and discuss your plans.”

A partner presentation — Tweek panics. He hates group work, presentations and Thomas Edison.

“Hey, Tweek, want to be partners?” Craig asks, and suddenly, it doesn't seem so bad.

His lips rise into a smile as he says, “y-yeah, yeah, sure.”

Craig sits at the abandoned desk in front of him. He sits on the desk backwards, so that his chest and stomach press to the back of his chair. As he adjusts himself, their feet accidentally bump into one another. Tweek is not sure who moves away first.

“So, Thomas Edison,” Craig says.

Tweek forgets all about the play as he stares into those hazel eyes, and admires his smooth, tanned skin. He swears Craig looks cuter today. “Thomas Edison.”

Craig’s mouth twitches into a smile, revealing his straight, non-coffee-stained, white teeth; albeit straight due to braces, not genetics. Although, the rest of him is all genetics — his thick, dark eyebrows and his perfectly formed, thin pink lips. He inhales softly before looking down and opening his textbook in front of him, landing on a random page before flipping through to find the right chapter.

He feels Craig watching him as he does so. He lands on the chapter about Edison and sighs. “I hate this fucking guy — he gets all the fame, while Tesla died penniless. You know Tesla worked for him, right, and helped him work on his inventions? Yet, never gets any credit.”

“Uh, no, I didn’t, but please, enlighten me.”

When he flashes his eyes up to Craig, he catches a coy smile. Craig puts his clasped fists on the top of Tweek’s desk. He stares into those hazel eyes, and has to look at his book again. He pretends to give it mind as he says, “he gave so many contributions towards the making of the light bulb; and yet, you never see his name anywhere. It’s like that with all history though, I suppose.” Tweek flips a page, trying to find an invention. “It’s all so one-sided.”

“Maybe we should just do a presentation on him.”

Tweek laughs. He lifts his head to look at Craig who laughs as well. “You shouldn’t joke about that, man, I might actually take you up on it.”

“Shit,” Craig shrugs. “Let’s do it.”

“We will fail,” Tweek frowns.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Craig pulls Tweek’s book toward him. Tweek wonders where Craig’s own book is. He watches as he flips through it; focusing in on his hands, the veins prominent and fingers long. Tweek finds himself staring until Craig says, “what about the phonograph?”

Tweek blinks and looks up to him. “Fuck it, actually, let’s do it on Tesla.”

“Okay,” Craig closes the book.

“Okay?” Tweek asks. “Really? You’re not… like… worried about your grade? I mean why do you want to do Tesla?”

Craig pulls his hands away from the desk and shrugs as he puts them at his sides. “I don’t know. Always up for being defiant.”

“Maybe you really are a bad boy,” Tweek teases, but as he says it, he blushes and has to look away. He has teased him before for his reputation, but saying it this time felt weird. He just has too much Craig on his mind; Kenny’s getting into his head. If he and Craig are going to be friends, he can’t be weird like this. 

“Rebel without a cause, I guess.”

Tweek lets out a breathy laugh as he nods. He still doesn’t look at him as he pulls out his phone.

“But you — you are just … you care.”

Tweek twists his eyebrows together as he looks at the boy in front of him; hoping all the blush has faded by now. “What?”

Craig is not looking at him now, instead looking at the rubric in his hands. “Says it’s due Monday,” he says instead of answering. “That bitch,” he adds under his breath.

Tweek doesn’t ever get an answer as they discuss Tesla further; all the inventions he was responsible for, none of which he received credit or fortunes for. Tesla worked to create better for humanity, while the rest worked for money.  
  


The boys talk over the project a few minutes longer, and decide to get together on Friday after school to work on the project.

“You want to come over to my place after school — we could catch a ride with Clyde?”

Tweek’s eyebrows go up. He thinks of Craig’s dad; the conversation at Whole Foods; the uneasiness he felt around him. What if he spends more time around him, and he finds out he is gay? Craig said he wouldn’t stop being his friend if his dad told him too, but Tweek rather just stay clear of that ever happening.

He swallows. “Actually, you wanna come to my place? My parents are always at the shop, so we will have the whole house to ourselves,” fuck, does that sound weird? He looks down at his phone, “ah, I just — it might be more chill, and I can smoke… if needed.” This may be an excuse, but it is actually true, as embarrassing as that is for him to admit to Craig.

“Yeah, that’s fine with me,” Craig says.

Tweek feels a weight fall off of him at this.

  
  


Xxxx

  
  


When Friday comes around, Clyde drops them both off at Tweek’s house. It is the first time Craig’s been inside since ninth grade. It seems exactly the same; completely void of any mess, and decorated to the top to the bottom with the most basic housold decorations. There are small sayings everywhere in the house; embroidered on the pillows, stickers on the walls, on decorative wall art, and more.

Craig is pretty sure that Mr. Tweek hangs these up so that if Tweek comes to him with a problem, he can just read some bogus saying off the wall in response.

“It looks the exact same in here.”

“I mean,” Tweek says, “it hasn’t been that long.”

Craig supposes it hasn’t. A year and half; nearly two. It feels longer; the absence heavy. 

“I’m going to make some coffee,” Tweek announces, making Craig laugh.

“What?” He whips his head to him as he walks into the kitchen. Craig just shakes his head and drops his backpack where Tweek had left his — in the living room by the couch. 

“Nothing.”

“Don’t laugh at me.”

He follows him into the kitchen, which looks exactly the same as well. It’s almost as nothing has been even touched since he was here last. It really is a reminder that it has truly not been that long. It felt like a whole lifetime passed between them though. The Tweak household may remain the same, but Tweek has changed.

“How many cups have you had today?”

“Only four.”

“Only?” 

Tweek glares at him and flips him off. It makes Craig’s heart ripple. He doesn’t see Tweek flip many people off, in fact, he’s only ever seen him do it to himself. It was a mannerism Tweek seemed to pick up from him. Something he only directed at him, like an inside joke of sorts. Although… it seemed deeper than that. Now, it still feels deeper than that.

Craig watches Tweek make his coffee; reverting to times in the past. It’s not like he’s seen him do it all that much; it’s not like he spent everyday with him, but the days he did spend with him; he felt like they held more weight in his life than with anyone else.

While he spent much more times with his other friends, he somehow could pull way more details about memories of Tweek than anyone else.

Tweek asks if he wants a cup, and he says sure, but immediately regrets it when he takes a sip. He asks Tweek if he has sugar, and Tweek laughs at him; the bastard with his black coffee. Craig also goes to the liberty of pulling milk out of Tweek’s fridge and pouring it in his mug, along with several spoonfuls of sugar. When he takes a sip, he nods and says, “immensely better.”

Tweek giggles at him and he doesn’t even mind it this time. It sounds nice. “Because you’re basically drinking milk and sugar now.”

“It’s still the same amount of coffee you have in your mug.”

“It’s not the same, dude.”

“It doesn’t affect it.” 

Tweek shakes his head at him as he takes a sip of his own. Craig sighs a tad and pushes his mug forward to Tweek. “Here, try mine; it’s way better. You will love it.”

“I won’t, but fine,” Tweek grabs the mug from him. He takes a sip and winces. He pulls the mug away from his lips and pushes it back to Craig. He still wears a frown as he says, “Jesus, man, that doesn’t even taste like coffee anymore.”

“Exactly.” Craig smirks at him, taking a sip. He raises an eyebrow. “Delicious.”

Tweek shakes his head before he looks down with laughter. He sips his coffee before saying, “those are fighting words, you know that right? You can’t insult coffee in this house.”

Craig wants to say what are you going to do about it if I do? But that’s not a thing he should say, so he huffs out a bit of air and says, “so, Nikola Tesla.”

“You figured out his first name,” Tweek beams at him.

Craig shrugs. “I figured we are doing an illegal presentation on him — finding out his first name is probably a good start.”

Tweek nods, “a very good start.”

They make their way back to the living room. Craig figures this is where they will sit because Tweek puts his coffee down on the end table and says, “wait, one minute, I have to get my laptop.”

Craig nods and sits on the couch. He sips his coffee in the meantime, mentally comparing the two variations of coffee in his mind. Tweek is obsessed with sweets, while he is not a huge fan of them, and yet, with coffee, all logic was lost.

Tweek appears a moment or so later with his laptop. Tweek seems to be pretty well educated on Nikola Tesla so they actually do not have to do much in reference to research. Craig is pretty sure that he is mostly useless for this illegal project, but Tweek does not seem to mind. 

About an hour and half later, they complete the project; dooming themselves for an F, most likely, but at least making a point. Craig admires the activist, outspoken, and committed traits that Tweek holds. Craig truly just holds indifference towards most things.

Most things.

It’s awkward after they complete the project. Does Craig go home now? Should he say goodbye? He doesn’t really want to.

“So, I was pretty shocked with the choice for the play,” Tweek suddenly says, a abrupting him from his internal monologue.

“You were?”

“Uh, yeah,” Tweek nods, taking a sip of his sixth cup of coffee of the day. “Do you know what the plot is?” He lowers his gaze on him.

Craig feels dumb all of a sudden. Is the plot well known? He’s never heard of it, and hasn’t really had any desire to look into it. “Oh yeah, I know.”

Tweek just stares at him for a moment, studying him. “I can’t tell if you’re lying.”

Craig smiles at the way his amber eyes squint at him, along with the slight arch to his light brows and wrinkle above his nose. “What’s the play about?”

Tweek lets out a breathy laugh. “Asshole, I knew it! Ah, okay, uh, it’s, ah, it’s about the AIDS crisis in the 80’s. It’s set in New York. The main character — and a lot of other characters, actually — are gay. It’s really cool, you know? I just think it’s awesome they are doing this, like who knew a hick town like South Park could end up so progressive?”

Craig’s chest tightens at the synopsis of the play. “That’s … awesome.” Craig stares at the fern in the corner of the room. “Are you going to try out?”

“What?” Tweek barks out. “No way, man! That’s way too much pressure!”

“You seem really into it though.”

“I mean… yeah! It’s really cool they are doing it — but being in it? I don’t… I don’t know. I’d be terrible!” Craig keeps his eyes on the fern. “Like, I … I don’t know, sure, I thought about trying out before for one of the plays last year, but god, I would be so awful, and I’d probably have some kind of panic attack in the middle of the show. I couldn’t even bring myself to sign up for auditions, let alone, actually audition!”

Craig ponders over this a minute. “Hmmm, you played the piano last year, right? In the musical?” Craig finally abandons the sight of the fern and looks toward Tweek.

Tweek runs a hand through his wavy hair. “Uh, yeah… you, ah, knew that?”

“I saw it in the pamphlet… I didn’t go,” Craig swallows, awkwardly. “But I’m sure you were great… you’ve been great every other time I've heard you play... and you didn’t have a panic attack there.”

“Maybe I did. You said you weren’t there.”

“Did you?”

“No.”

Craig smiles and receives a smile back from Tweek. “I think you should do it — try out.”

“I’d be terrible,” he shakes his head and looks at the coffee mug held in his two hands.

“You would be great,” Craig says, “when we were kids… you were always so good with all those games. You really got into character. You became the barbarian. That’s acting.”

“It’s not the same thing,” Tweek laughs, still looking into his cup. The smile holds to his face as the laugh disperses. 

“Well, I think you’re capable of more than you think.”

Tweek picks his head up at this and meets him in the eyes. Craig returns the gaze a moment before he returns to the view of the fern. “Thanks, Craig,” Tweek says. He sucks in a breath. “Maybe… We’ll see if I chicken out signing up for auditions.”

Craig does not press much further on the subject, but he does have an idea of what to do next regarding it.

  
  


Xxx

On Monday morning, they present their project. Their teacher’s pretty angry with them for defying directions, but sees the hard work, and gives them a D. Craig figures it was worth it to watch Tweek shout to the class for fifteen minutes on why the rest of their presentations on Edison were bullshit, and how Tesla, instead, deserved the praise.

Craig waits until after class to tell Tweek what he has done. Craig pulls out the script from his backpack and hands it to Tweek as they walk down the hall.

“What is this?”

“The script to The Normal Heart.”

“Uh, okay… what’s it for?”

“You?”

Tweek opens his mouth up and down, clueless. “What?” 

Craig laughs. “So, you said you were scared of signing up, right? So, I signed you up for all three days. Just in case you cant make one of them.”

“What?!” Tweek exclaims, eyes wide. “I think you took that way too literally… I am not scared of signing up … I’m scared of everything that comes after.”

“Well, at least your on the list now, and have the script.”

“I — augh — I don’t know,” Tweek flips through the script with a sigh. “I — it’s… ugh…,” he lets out a long sigh. He smiles though after, and looks up to say, “Thanks.”

“My pleasure,” Craig tells him, really meaning it. “Well, I got to go to class — but I’ll see you later, okay?” Then, without thinking, he does something that he doesn’t normally do with people — he touches him. It’s just a light grab to the shoulder, but it’s unusual. He usually is the one to flinch away from other’s touch. He is never the one to initiate it. He supposes Clyde touches him on the shoulder and back all the time, but that’s Clyde and he initiates it. He does that with everyone. Craig doesn’t do this with anyone; well, except Tweek, really.

He supposes it’s always been this way though. Tweek has really been the only person he has touched in these gentle measures. It sends fear through him, recalling all the previous times in their friendship where Craig crossed that line. Touching Tweek was part of the reason he distanced himself in the first place; the touching felt so good and so natural, and that terrified him.

But it’s strange. He doesn’t feel terrified now… he just feels… good He feels like he wants more, even; a squeeze of the shoulder is nearly just a scratch on the surface of that good feeling. In truth, he almost feels like he needs it. He’s been hurting so long that he’s sort of forgotten how numb he’s become, but with Tweek — he is realizing how good emotions can be.

He’s realizing that maybe it’s okay to let yourself feel them. Maybe he even wants to feel them.

  
  



	18. auditons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, once again, and always, give a huge shout out and send all my love to ambercreek95. She is literally... so helpful and has helped sooooo immensely with ideas. LITERALLY this whole chapter just... is because of her... so thank you sooooo much ilysm. Thanks
> 
> Also, disclaimer, this chapter... some ... well one... dialogue comes from “The Normal Heart” which I in no way own.
> 
> I hope you enjoy. Parts of this chapter were super EH to me, but idk. . . I tried.

Craig went through the liberty to sign him up for the all three days of auditions which was both annoying and touching. In truth, Tweek had all three days off work; he could do any of them. 

He has reread parts of the script multiple times over the past few days; attempting to practice and memorize lines for one of the smaller roles. He wants to audition for the supporting character, Mickey. Mickey is friends with Ned, the lead, and  _ also _ a gay character. 

He feels less alone in this because Kenny and Stan tried out on Wednesday. He almost tried out with them, but ultimately, chickened out. The two boys tired out as two lovers in the play. Tweek was jealous over both their relationship and courage.

Now, it’s Friday, and here he is; shaking in his boots with his head spinning. Part of him wants to run out of the school, and get as far as possible from those auditions.

“You are going today, right?” Craig asks him after the first period.

“I don’t know,” Tweek says. “It’s… intimidating.”

“Just picture the audience in their underwear, or whatever.”

Tweek shakes his head, and frowns in disgust. “Mr. Mackey is helping Ms. Prevost with casting.”

“What does Mr. Mackey know about casting?”

Tweek shrugs, not sure what the school counselor possibly knows concerning theater either. “All I know is that picturing him naked will make me  _ puke _ on stage, and then puking on stage will llead me to having a panic attack on stage, and  _ that  _ will lead to possible suicide. Maybe also... 

Craig grins at him and that smile somehow makes everything seem less troubling. “Okay, then don’t use that tactic. Mr. Mackey naked would make me want to kill myself as well.”

Tweek smiles. It’s hard  _ not _ to smile back at Craig. He has such a nice smile, yet he hides it away, only appearing every blue moon. Although, Tweek does not know how true that stands anymore. He sees Craig smile at him more and more often now, but it still just never seems to be enough.

He only notices now how close they have been walking beside each other. Sure, the hallway is crowded and full. It’s common to bump and brush against one another, but this just seems  _ excessive _ , or maybe Tweek is just hyper aware of every time they accidentally touch. He doesn’t trust his perspective — not when it comes to the judgement and bias of Craig Tucker.

“Look, you don’t even need a tactic, you’re just going to do great… just, let them see you for who you are.”

They stop at the corner they usually split up at. Tweek bites down on his bottom lip, fidgeting with the bottom hem of his button up. “Isn’t that like… not the point — aren’t you supposed to be the  _ character?” _

Craig frowns. “Stop reminding me about how bad at advice I am.”

Tweek breaks into a smile again, and lets out a breathy laugh. “I-I’m not,” he says. “You’re good at advice, Craig. I feel …  _ better _ .” He locks onto the taller boy’s gaze and tries to promise the words authenticity through eye contact. 

Craig visibly lights up, his eyes slightly wider and lips curling up into a slight smile. The look makes Tweek’s heart swell. Unfortunately, it only lasts a second. Craig returns him to his normal stoic expression hastily, and nods. “Good. Tell me how it goes. Good luck.”

Craig squeezes his arm, and Tweek flushes at the physical contact. He has touched him intentionally like this a couple times now, but it still remains to always be a suprise.

Tweek thanks him before they part ways, and lets out a small exhale once they separate. His growing feelings are beginning to feel impossible to ignore.

Xxxx

Craig is not sure he trusts Tweek to follow through with auditions. He does not want to see him lose such a great opportunity to shine. He knows if he just  _ tries _ , he will easily get whatever role he wants. So, after school, he goes to check in on him.

“Just wanted to say good luck on the audition again… and make sure you’re still going?”

“Yes, I’m going.”

“Good,” Craig says, a pause following. “Well, break a leg, or whatever it is the say.”

“I never liked that expression. Why would anyone wish injury on someone?”

“You’re the drama nerd, you tell me.”

Tweek pushes at his shoulder at his which makes Craig stumble slightly. He lets out a breathy laugh in response. “Don’t go there. You wanna call  _ me _ the nerd, nerd?”

“I’m not a nerd, nerd,” he pushes the blonde back in a jovial manner; grin on his face and sparkle in his eyes.

Tweek laughs loudly in response and shoves at him again. “AGH! You’re such a nerd, are you kidding me? You’re a space nerd, and a guinea pig nerd, and an anime, video game nerd,” Tweek speaks through a fit of giggles.

Craig's grin reaches his ears, his cheeks hurting. “Are we gonna have to fight again?” He pushes him back a little more roughly than before, receiving a gasp and offended scoff from the blond. Although, he is smiling. 

“You trying to  _ actually _ break my leg?” Tweek shoves him back. 

“It is supposed to be good luck, so maybe,” Craig says with a coy grin. He returns the push, but it’s gentler than the previous ones.

Tweek’s grin is bright and lit; his one dimple prevalent on his cheek. They stare at each other a moment, beaming. They both breathe hard, trying to regain the breath lost between laughing and roughhousing. Craig feels slightly woozy from the lack of breath. Tweek’s amber eyes bore deep inside him, and as uncomfortable as it makes him, he cannot look away.

“Hey you two!”

It is the voice of a familiar character that ultimately breaks the intense, lingering gaze between them. Both boys jump back, although not have even been doing anything technically wrong; it certainly feels like they were.

“Craigo, member what we said bout not being in the hallways after the final bell?”

The fucking janitor. Tweek’s eyes are wide as he looks down and brings his arms around his torso. Craig exhales deeply before turning to look over to the janitor. Craig’s smile replaces with a scowl.

“It literally rang like five minutes ago.”

“Well, hurry it up — I got floors to clean.”

With that, the janitor leaves them be. Craig sighs and returns his gaze over to the direction of Tweek. The blonde looks down at the floor and shuts his locker, throwing the backpack over his shoulder.

“Such an asshole,” Craig says. Tweek nods and picks up his head to look at the janitor who now resides far down the hallway.

Tweek turns his head back again at Craig, but doesn’t quite meet him in the eye. “I still feel bad does making you deal with him for so long,” he says, his voice low now. 

“It’s fine, Tweek. You don’t control how shitty another person acts.”

Tweek shrugs. “I am still going to have to come up with something to pay you back with.”

“You basically did our whole project; that’s enough.”

Tweek finally makes eye contact and a smirk quips up on his face. “We got a D on that. That doesn’t count.”

Craig’s phone dings. It’s a text from Clyde.

**CLYDE:** where r u??????????????????? I’m waiting for u in the parking lot

“Well, I should go,” Tweek says. “Don’t wanna be late.”

Craig nods and says goodbye to the blonde before typing out a response to Clyde.

He writes out:

**CRAIG:** be right there

But the longer he stares at it, the more he reconsiders it. He picks up his head to look at Tweek walking down the hallway and eventually around the corner. 

He deletes the text to Clyde and retypes it out.

**CRAIG:** I don’t need a ride today

**CLYDE:** could have told me sooner asshole

**CRAIG:** well I’m telling you now

Craig did not plan to watch the auditions, but he finds himself heading towards the auditorium anyway. He takes a seat in the back, making sure not to be seen. Ms. Prevost and Mr. Mackey are on stage, the crowd of students in the first few rows. The two instructors go off about something boring and seemingly irrelevant to Craig, so he scrolls on his phone.

Craig has to suffer through Eric Cartman, Wendy Testaburger, Heidi Turner (who actually is pretty good, Craig is just  _ bored  _ and impatient), before Tweek takes the stage.

Craig sits up in his scene when Tweek appears. He looks out to the audience with a startled expression. Craig leans back and sinks down in his seat, afraid he will be caught. Tweek looks like a deer on headlights on the stage.

“Mmmmkay, Tweek, what part are we trying out for today then?” Mr. Mackey asks from the desk in front of the stage.

“Mickey.”

“Mmm kay, did you have a specific scene you were planning to act out?”

“Yes, and I-I uh, memorized the lines for it.”

“Okay, what scene is that, Tweek? Mr. Mackey and I can fill in for the other characters.”

“Okay uh — Scene 11, okay?”

“Sure thing,” Ms. Prevost says.

Tweek speaks the first line. It’s obvious he is nervous; his voice slightly wobbly and in higher pitch than usual. Mr. Mackey and Ms. Prevost fill in the other lines, and after a few times back and forth, the wobble in Tweek’s voice disappears and replaces with confidence. He becomes the  _ character.  _ His mannerisms even change; the way he holds himself and presents himself somehow different now. 

_ “I work all day for the city writing stuff on breastfeeding versus formula and how to stay calm if you have herpes and I work all night on our Newsletter and my health columns for the Native and I can't take it anymore. Now this . . .”  _ Tweek says on the stage from memory, not only  _ looking  _ exhausted but sounding as much so. It’s like he hasn’t drank coffee in weeks or something. It’s not the usual wired out Tweek that he knows — it’s  _ Mickey _ .

“Whatcha doing?”

Craig nearly jumps out his seat at the sudden voice. He looks up and sees Kenny standing above him. He was so focused on Tweek he didn’t even notice Kenny walking towards him.

“What the fuck, Kenny? Where did you come from?”

Kenny chuckles in the cheeky kind of way he always does, and sits down next to him. “Stan and I were fucking in the light room, but I wanted to come down to see Tweek’s performance up close.”

Craig scowls at the mention of “ _ fucking _ ” but it’s not the first time he has heard it from the orange parka wearing boy. “You know, as sick as you two make me, it is funny how much you two, uh... have sex here … that homophobe janitor would lose is fucking mind if he found out.” Craig keeps his eyes on the stage.

Kenny lets out a loud laugh. Craig glares at him in response and hushes him.

“Sorry,” Kenny whispers, recovering from his laughter. “Yeah, that would be funny getting caught by him one day.”

“Funny?” Craig narrows his eyes on the dirty blonde.

“That’s right — funny. Fuck that guy. I’d more than love to scar him with some gay sex.”

Craig once again scowls. He looks at the stage though, and his expression softens. “I wonder what he thinks of this play.”

“I’m sure he  _ loves  _ it.”

“Totally.”

There is a pause.

“Speaking of…,” Kenny starts, “what are  _ you  _ doing here?”

“Oh,” Craig swallows. He did not even think of an excuse. He was too distracted between Tweek and all the gay sex Kenny was mentioning. The thought of those two things in the same sentence makes him flush and stagger with his words. “I — um, — I’m here because…,” his eyes fall to the props on stage, barely painted or put together. He regains his steadiness and clears his throat. “I want to do stage hands.”

“Stage hands…?” 

Craig curtly nods. “Yup,” he puts emphasis on the p. He does his best to fake enthusiasm; he is definitely not an actor though. “I just really think it would be cool, so I figured I’d come to auditions, see what the play’s all about.”

There is a beat before Kenny says, “O-kay… neat.”

He exhales in relief. He really wishes Kenny would just shut up so he could watch Tweek. Isn’t that what Kenny said he was doing here? Although, ever since Kenny grew out of his shell in middle school, he has a very hard time shutting up.

“By the way, wanna know who I tried out for?”

“No. Be quiet.”

“Asshole,” Kenny says. “I’m playing the part of Craig!”

Craig turns his head to him with furrowed brows. “What?” 

Kenny wears a shit-eating grin. “Yeah, there’s a guy named Craig. Guess there’s two Craig’s now, huh?” He raises his eyebrows and nudges him with his elbow.

Craig’s face falls flat. “That is extremely disappointing news.”

Kenny just laughs in response. “I bet you’re just worried I’ll be the better Craig.”

Craig rolls his eyes, but does not respond. He hopes that this will silence Kenny. He fixes his eyes on Tweek. He has gotten even more so into character now; not afraid to use his hands and change the volume of his voice. He is  _ really  _ good; really believable. He feels so proud of his friend. He is so talented in so many different ways, and he continues to impress him. His whole chest swells with pride.

“He is really good,” he hears Kenny whisper.

“Yeah,” he agrees, his eyes don’t leave the blonde on stage.

  
  
  


After some time, Ms. Prevost says “okay, Tweek, I think we got enough. Thanks.”

Craig visibly sees Tweek’s expression change; Mickey leaves him, and Tweek returns. 

“Tweek, would you be interested in any other parts? Or just exclusively Mickey?”

Tweek pushes his hands through his hair. “I guess, ah, anyone, really? Yeah, just anyone is fine. I don’t know — ah, whoever you think I’m good for,” Tweek races the words out; resembling a completely different person than the person he was mere seconds ago.

“Thank you,” the director states. “Alright, honey, you’re all done. You may take a seat again, or leave if you choose to do so.”

“Okay.”

Tweek walks off stage and Kenny steps up in response, “lets go tell him how good of a job he did.”

Panic rises inside him. “Uh, no. That’s fine. I have to … tell her about the stage hands thing, so I’m gonna stay.”

Kenny smirks at him after a long, pointed stare, which makes him feel even more uneasy.  _ The filthy cocksucker. _ “Okay. You do that, dude.”

Kenny takes a few steps away from him and he panics. He can’t have Tweek know he was here.

“Kenny?” He calls out.

The dirty blonde turns his head back to him.

“Can you not tell Tweek you saw me here — I um, I didn’t tell him I was doing stage hands… yet.”

Kenny’s smile holds wide and true, but the same look he swore he saw the day of the janitor incident glimmers in his eyes. He still can’t read it. “You got it, Tucker.”

“Thanks,” he exhales a sigh of relief, and pushes Kenny’s weird look out of his mind.

Looks like he is going to have to sign up for stage hands. 

_ Fuck _ .

Xxxx

Tweek spends the whole weekend worried over the auditions. Ms. Prevost asked him if he would be willing to do any other parts. This totally means that he is getting one of the extremely minor roles, right? He is going to be an extra, in the back, with no lines.

Kenny said he did great, but Kenny is supportive no matter what, and even if he did bad, it’s not like Kenny would tell him.

Craig texted him the night of the audition and asked how it went. Tweek said bad, but Craig just kept saying he probably did great. His words didn’t mean much though; he still felt like he fucked the whole thing up.

Craig also told him he is doing stage hands for the play, which Tweek found odd because Craig did not seem to show any interest in the theater before. He claimed all the talk about it, he became interested.

He doesn’t know if this is actually good or bad news.

Part of him is happy for the potential increased time with Craig, but the other part of him is scared of falling back in love with him. He makes it so hard; signing him up for auditions and getting in trouble for him; along with everything else far and in between. It makes his head hurt. He looks into those eyes and everything just  _ stops.  _

He is sure that if he spends a second longer with him than he currently is, he’s doomed. 

Xxx

On Tuesday afternoon, they post the cast list.

Instead of rushing to go look, like the rest of the potential cast members, Tweek moves in slow movements by his locker. He wants to go look, but he feels immobilized. His feet are stuck in quicksand and he’s falling in, legs quickly following.

That is, until Craig rolls around with his magnificent smile and beautiful hazel eyes. Tweek then, instead, begins to melt. He is not sure what’s worse, considering Craig is Craig, and will never tell him or let on how he feels. He is doomed to become a helpless puddle. “Hey, what are you doing? Why are you still here? The cast list is posted.”

“I know,” Tweek chooses not to look at him as he pulls a book he doesn’t even need out of his locker and into his backpack. “But I can’t look. I can’t see my name as an understudy of a fucking lamp, or something.”

“Is … that a role?”

Tweek rolls his eyes and lets out a huff of air. He slams his locker shut, and leans against it afterward. Craig mirrors his actions, his side coming in contact with another locker. It leaves one locker space between them.

A sway of students pass them, the hallways quickly emptying as usual; students more than urgent to get home. “No — I don’t know. That’s not the point, Craig!”

Tweek notices a slight glimpse of a smile, but Craig quickly bites down on it and returns his lips to a straight line. Tweek realizes just then he has been staring at his friend’s lips.  _ Fuck.  _ He is going to stop being his friend. He is fucking going to weird him out.  _ Why is he like this?  _

He looks down at their feet and swallows.

“Tweek… I looked already… at the list.”

Tweek’s heart plunges into his stomach. He’s back in the quicksand and it’s faster now; he’s about to be swallowed whole. He closes his eyes, ready for whatever bad news Craig is inevitably about to deliver on him.

“Tweek, you got the part of the main guy.”

Tweek darts his eyes open at the grinning boy before him, obviously no longer feeling any need to restrain his emotions. He doesn’t believe him though. It doesn’t make sense. He didn’t even try out for the leading role — and, he is in no way, or manner, worthy ofi it. 

“Ned?” Tweek searches his friend’s face frantically, sure that he misread it, or is just being an asshole. 

“Yes,” he states with no influcation in his voice.

Tweek swallows. “You’re serious — you’re not — you’re not  _ fucking  _ with me? Cause that would be really fucked up if you were.”

“I’m not lying to you, Tweek. I wouldn’t joke around about this, I know how important it is to you.”

Tweek gaze falls for a moment… so this is true then? He got… the leading role? He sucks in a deep breath and smiles, amazed. Without really thinking about it, he lunges forward and wraps the noirette into a hug. The noirette immediately stiffens at the sudden embrace. Tweek’s entire body feels dread as he realizes what he is doing. He jumps backwards, letting the other boy go completely. He knows he is beat red. There is no hiding it. “I’m — shit — I’m sorry,” he pulls on his hair. “I — fuck — I just,” but then Craig steps forward and mimics the actions Tweek did seconds ago.

Tweek’s eyes widen at the embrace, his own body going stiff, but he hugs him back. He breathes in his cologne and closes his eyes for a minute, relishing in it. He doesn’t remember a time where a hug felt  _ this _ good. It’s not that he doesn’t receive them; he does, but not like this— they don’t come with this warmth that spreads all the way down to his toes and complete security.

It’s too short for his liking, but also, in a way, too long to qualify as  _ friendly _ . Craig lets go, and steps back. Tweek stares. He wonders if it’s completely obvious. Does Craig know? Does Craig know he wants more than just a hug? He forces a smile. “Thanks... for telling me.”

Craig nods. “Yeah… I knew you’d get it,” he lets out a forced chuckle and for some reason, punches him in the arm. Tweek’s eyebrows shift together slightly as he glances at the contact. It stings slightly.

“Thanks,” he nods, head still downcast. 

They walk out of school together, ignoring the weird tension between which followed the hug. Clyde offers Tweek a ride upon seeing him, and Tweek takes it. Clyde talks most of the time on the way home, discussing his previous date with Bebe over the weekend. Craig seems annoyed, but he always does, kind of. 

Clyde seems sad over Bebe’s sporadic behavior in relation to her feelings for him, and unfortunately, Tweek can relate.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if there was typos or just like too jumpy ... idk I’m like v tired when I reread and fixed the chapter up so ... forgive... pls


	19. Closer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TYSM EVERYONE :,) you have no idea how much all your support means to me!!!!! I love you guys sm
> 
> as always I want to thank ambercreek95 for all the help and ideas 🥺 please go check out all her stuff!! she is so talented

He tells his manager he can only work weekends now, due to the play, and it does not go very well. She says it’s fine, but Tweek does not believe her. He doesn’t know if he should. He typically does not know what to believe from people. His brain always thinks the worst.

He also has to attempt to find someone to take his shift on Monday so he doesn't miss rehearsal. Luckily, he has tomorrow and Friday off already. 

He hates to ask others to take his shift; hates to ask others of anything, really. He just expects them to say no, immediately. Then, if his coworker  _ says _ no, he will have to tell Ms. Prevost, which will be the inevitable cause of his doom.

He hates that his brain works this way. 

Then,  _ next  _ Thursday, he is scheduled, so he will have to find someone for that shift as well. He has never taken a statistics class, but he does not have to be a mathematical genius to know it’s unlikely he will get both shifts taken.

He will let down his director, and then she will probably realize he is not fit for the leading roll, thus giving him the smallest role, instead. 

Although, maybe she will just come to terms with his lack of talent at the read through tomorrow afternoon. It will be the first time the cast and crew comes together. 

He supposes the anxiety of the play, at least, takes some anxiety away from Craig. He does not know how  _ healthy  _ that is though; it’s definitely not at all, but most things he does are not, truthfully.

  
  


During his break, he texts his coworker to ask about the shift, and Kenny.

**TWEEK:** Want to smoke after I get off of work? I’m stressed :S

**KENNY:** Sure thing, but let’s go to starks pond. My parents just got back from a huge bender, you don’t wanna see this shit!!!!!

Tweek frowns at the implication. Post-bender is not a pretty sight. He feels bad that he was so concerned over himself, when Kenny is obviously doing a lot worse.

  
  
  


After work, with still no text from his coworker and $10 bill to give Kenny, he heads to Stark’s Pond. The air is cool, but warmer than the usual November chill; just another year closer to the planet dying from climate change. Maybe this 60 degree weather in November will be a wake up call. Tweek doubts it, but maybe.

He shows up at the usual smoke spot at Stark’s Pond. His heart falls into his chest upon arrival at the sight of Kenny, and  _ Craig _ .

He stills a moment at the visual. 

Kenny has been quiet about Craig recently; lessened with the gay jokes and innuendos. It seems when he talks about him nowadays.

Tweek approaches cautiously through the fallen leaves, and puts his hand up in a delicate wave. “Hey,” he eyes Kenny and then Craig. As always, he can’t read Craig’s expression.

“Hey, oh yeah, by the way, Tweek’s here,” Kenny looks over to Craig.

“I see that. Thanks.”

Tweek lets out a huff of air as he moves forward. He takes a seat on the log next to Kenny. Craig stands over by the stream, looking down into it. Tweek watches him, and shoves his hands into his pockets in order to not pull out all his hair. 

Kenny has a joint paper and a  _ Princess Barbie  _ tin container on his lap. Tweek has no idea where he got it from, but it’s usually what Kenny keeps his weed in on the go.

“Just in time, Tweekie.”

“How are you?” Tweek asks. “How are your parents?”

Kenny shrugs. “They’re fucking meth heads; same as always. Just glad Tucker’s sister exists so Karen can get away from it tonight.”

Tweek immediately thinks of the Tuckers and their conversation in Whole Foods. He thinks of Thomas’s disdain for Kenny. Apparently it does not transcend to Karen. Maybe Thomas Tucker is not dumb enough to think that being gay is not genetic. Although, he seems to believe it’s contagious… so maybe he just feels bad for the McCormick girl.

Tweek turns his head to Craig. He stands with his hands in his jean pockets, head down and on the water. Craig seems to be in a mood. He looks back to Kenny. “Are you staying anywhere? You could come to my place.”

“Thanks, babe, but Stan Marsh is my knight and shining armor. I’m just headed there tonight… I’ll probably smoke this with you guys and then head out, to be honest.”

Tweek panics. Head out? So he is leaving him alone with Craig? “Oh… okay.” Tweek pulls a $10 from his pocket and tries to hand it to Kenny, but he just gets a shake of the head.

“Think of it as a celebratory gift for the return of my parents!” He exclaims. “I’m already giving it to Craig for free,” then Kenny lets out a single giggle, “the weed, I mean.”

Craig looks over to them and raises a middle finger. Kenny laughs and returns to rolling the joint. His purple nail fingers roll the joint, closing down moments until he and Craig are alone.

Tweek frowns. “Just take the $10..”

“We’re celebrating the failure of my parent’s sobriety, it’s fine,” Kenny gives him a cheesy smile, but there is a certain pain in his eyes. “Plus I get a discount from Stan’s dad all the time.” Tweek huffs out a bit of air and concedes. He slips the $10 back into his jacket pocket and looks towards Craig, again.

He still hovers by the small stream that leads to Stark’s pond. He is wearing the same clothes as he was earlier at school, but for some reason, in the dark and the woods it's even more appealing to him.

“Why are you stressed?” Kenny asks.

“Just— the play.”

“Oh, yeah? Craig is stressed too. He’s worried I’ll be a better Craig than he is.”

Craig turns to face them at this with a straight line across his face. He narrows his eyes on Kenny as he walks closer to them. “I am  _ not. _ I never said that. You did.”

Kenny shrugs, “doesn’t mean it’s not true.” Kenny brings the rolled joint to his lips and licks the roll so it’s sealed shut. 

Craig makes a face. “It always grosses me out watching you do that.”

“Just be lucky I haven’t eaten Stan’s ass yet today.”

Both Tweek and Craig cringe, as Kenny laughs away. “So, the play… what makes you so stressed over it?”

Tweek pauses. Kenny has his own shit to deal with. There is no reason to unleash all his anxiety out on him when he has so much bigger stuff going on. “Eh, nothing, it doesn’t matter. It’s stupid. I am just nervous for tomorrow.”

“Well, don’t be, you’re gonna kick it, dude!” Kenny says. He notices Craig offers a nod.

Kenny lights it up and they pass the joint around. Everytime Craig passes it to him, they touch. It reminds him of the night at Kenny’s, not too long ago, but simultaneously an eternity away.

The shrinking joint mocks him; every inhale a step closer to his doom: being left alone with Craig.

Eventually it goes out, and while his anxiety for the rest of his issues somewhat subside, an entire new array of nervous emotions form. Tweek grips the log he sits on. Craig still stands before them.

“Well, I’m getting out of here.” Kenny rises to his feet and shoves his hands in his pockets. He takes a few steps forward and says, “I could really go for a good high fuck right now.” He turns back to them, a coy smile on his face. “You guys should try it sometime — not together, obviously, but ya know,  _ separate.”  _

Tweek is sure his face is on fire as he glares at his friend.

“Thanks for the clarification,” Craig says.

Kenny salutes him. “Yup. Just wanna clear it up. Last time I made a gay joke to you, you almost bit my head off, so,” Kenny jerks his head to the side slightly, “feel it’s necessary.”

“Just fuck off already.”

Kenny snickers as he turns back around and retreats. For a moment, the only sounds that surround them are the quiet hum of wildlife and the patter of Kenny’s footsteps. Eventually Kenny’s footsteps fade along with his figure, consumed by the night and vastness of trees.

Craig finally sits down beside him and breaks the silence. “You know, I didn’t tell Kenny this but…” his voice is slower — deeper — thicker to dissolve, than usual. “I had to basically  _ fight  _ my dad to let Karen stay. He’s such an asshole.” Tweek looks to him. He is about to say something, but Craig continues, apparently more talkative when high. “I guess they haven’t had a sleepover since my dad found out Kenny and Stan — Karen’s over a fucking ton, too, though, like. It makes no sense. His  _ logic  _ makes no sense.”

Tweek nods, feeling his movements have somewhat slowed. “So, how did you get him to let her stay?”

Craig chuckles, shaking his head. He bows his head down. “I didn’t. Tricia did. She started to cry, and — it wasn’t even real, but it gets my dad every time. He doesn’t know how to deal with other people’s emotions.”

Tweek laughs, more so because he is  _ high  _ than the situation being funny. “At least he doesn’t go on onto some stupid ass, hour long story about something completely unrelated.”

“He still does that?”

Tweek shrugs, then giggles, the cannabis somehow making it all humorous. “How should I know? I do my best to avoid him.” He looks over to the dark haired boy beside him. He has a small, closed smile on his face. He looks at peace. “Sometimes I go a week without doing so — those are the best weeks.”

This makes Craig’s smile flatten out to somewhat of a frown. 

“Sorry, I’m totally crashing this high,” Tweek turns away and wraps his arms over his torso. He lets out a breathy and nervous laugh. 

“No, you’re not — I brought up my shitty dad, first,” Craig sets a hand on his shoulder. Tweek shifts his head to the side to look at him. 

In the dark, it’s hard to see, but the moonlight lights up his features. Tweek takes a deep breath inward, and Craig drops his hand. “Do you want to get some pizza?” Craig asks.

“Your shitty work pizza?” Tweek laughs.

“I thought you didn’t mind it?” 

“I mean, I’m not gonna complain about free food,” 

“Well, it would be free again.”

“You should have started with that, man!” Tweek stands to his feet, making Craig laugh outright. Craig rises to his feet as well. After a mutual smile between the pair, the two young and high males trek their way through the woods and back into the town. It’s usually not too far of a walk, but under the influence of THC, it seems rather endless.

When they finally get to the pizza shop, Craig puts in order for them with one of his coworkers. They sit on the red plastic chairs in the lobby and wait for it to be ready; the smell of grease and cheese lingering.

“I’m so hungry. I’ve never been this hungry in my life,” Tweek complains, resting a hand on his stomach. 

“Yeah, I feel like Clyde.”

Tweek giggles. “If Clyde feels like this all the time, I feel bad for him.”

“I feel bad for him in general.”

Tweek grabs his stomach and bends over with laughter. Craig laughs along with him. When Tweek looks up, he sees Craig is already staring at him. “You’re such a grouch. You’re like that guy from Sesame Street.”

“Oscar?”

“Yeah!” Tweek grins brightly. “Oscar.”

Craig laughs. “Does this also mean I live in a trash can?”

“I suppose it does.”

“No pizza for you then, you’re being mean.”

“You’re mean all the time.”

“Not to you.”

Tweek mouth stills from response. The words fall heavy upon him; struck with meaning he is not sure is actually there. Tweek freezes into a gaze with the boy next to him. His hazel eyes are so beautiful; an abundance of colors and pure gold right around the pupil. Tweek could stare forever. He has no intention of dropping the prolonged eye contact until they both here, “Yo, Tucker, it’s done.”

They both snap out of it and shift their gazes toward the voice. Craig steps up and grabs the Pizza, Tweek falling closely behind him. They leave the pizza shop, and settle down at the nearby park. They each take a seat on a rusted swing. 

They eat their pizza in a majority of silence; although, not uncomfortable. On his second slice, his phone goes off. It’s his coworker. She will take his shift. He audibly smiles broadly at the text and Craig gives him a curious look.

“Who is that?” Craig asks.

“Oh— just someone took my shift for tomorrow. I won’t have to miss the read through.”

“That’s great.”

“Yeah, I was nervous about it…” Tweek takes a bite off the pizza. It’s getting pretty late. He wonders when Craig will have to head home. He swings gently. “You’ll be there, right… as a stagehand?”

Craig nods in response. “Sure will.”

Tweek lets out a small huff of a laugh. He is still a little high, but it’s winding down a bit. He finishes the rest of his pizza slice. 

“What?” Craig asks.

“I just never thought I’d see you in a play.”

“I’m technically not  _ in _ it.” Craig finishes his own slice of pizza in a final, large bite.

Tweek scoffs, but grins slightly. “You know what I mean, asshole.”

Craig shrugs and looks away. “I don’t know… I do want to be a director when I grow up, might be… informative, or some shit.” The noirette dips his head down and places the pizza box on the ground between them.

“You do?”

Craig looks back up, but at the playground equipment, not Tweek. “Uh, yeah. I guess. Um… I don’t know. Is that dumb?”

“Why? Would that be dumb?”

Craig shrugs. He kicks against the ground and swings backwards. The strings of his chullo hat fly with the wind. “I don’t know… It’s not STEM, or whatever.”

“So?”

Craig continues to swing.

“You should just do whatever makes you happy, man.”

Craig stops his swing, and looks over to him. Tweek feels nervous under the sudden attention. His eyes go slightly wide at the locked gaze Craig has on him. 

“What do you wanna do?” Craig asks.

“I don’t know… Get out of South Park, for sure.”

“And once you do?”

There is a pause, then Tweek laughs. “I don’t know. That’s way too much pressure, man. I can barely handle what’s going on in my life  _ now —  _ how am I supposed to think about what I’ll be doing in a year?”

Craig cracks a smile. “You’re right.”

Tweek nods with a smile, he looks away for a second, but then returns to the lingering gaze. His face lights up slightly more. “It’s cool you wanna be a director though.”

“Thanks.”

The boys hang out for a little while longer until their eyelids feel slightly droopy and they head home; along with Craig getting multiple texts and calls from his parents. Tweek figures his parents are too busy in their own bullshit to really care about him, which would normally bother him, but he just feels too giddy from his time with Craig tonight to care. He floats on air as he travels home, a toothless smile locking itself into place on his lips. 

  
  


Xxx

  
  


The next day, the school day goes as usual, but instead of going home at 2:30pm, the boys head to the auditorium. On the stage, there is a circle of folding chairs.

Clyde immediately attached himself as another stagehand once he learned Bebe is doing makeup for the play. Craig severely judges him for it. It’s not like he is obsessed with Tweek like Clyde is obsessed with Bebe; he had to join the play to cover up his lie to Kenny.

He notices Nichole loitering around in the auditorium and walks up to her.

“Hey, what are you doing here?”

“Oh! I didn’t tell you? I’m doing costume design!” She says. She glances around quickly before she adds, “Bebe asked, and I couldn’t say no. Plus, Heidi and Wendy are both in the play, so it’s pretty fun anyway!” She grins, but that grin quickly escalates into a laugh. “What are  _ you  _ doing here?”

Craig flushes. “Uh. Stagehand.”

Nichole laughs harder at this. “Why?”

“It seemed… fun.”

Nichole gives him a curious look but nods. “Okay, Tucker. Well, it’ll be cool to have you around,” she pats his shoulder. Craig briefly notes how it feels a lot more intimate when he touches Tweek on the shoulder, than any touch does with Nichole.

The director gathers everyone together. Apparently, as a stagehand, he is not  _ important  _ enough to sit on stage, so instead, he sits in the audience, next to Clyde, Bebe, and Nichole; in that order.

It’s the first time he’s really gotten a look at the cast. A lot are from his grade, but there are also a variety of sophomores and seniors; maybe even a freshman or two.

The director introduces herself, then requests that the rest of the cast and crew do the same. Craig begrudgingly does so, not having signed up for a speaking role. After the icebreaker, the cast begins to read through the script.

Craig lingers on Tweek; the jerk of his leg, and the way he keeps fiddling with the script in his hands. Although, when it gets to his part to read, he completely stills.

He doesn’t pay much attention to the content of the play until suddenly Tweek, and some other character that he should  _ definitely  _ know the name of by now, begin to flirt. He crosses his arms mindlessly, suddenly  _ very  _ engrossed in the plot. The flirting only becomes heavier. He learns the other character is  _ Felix,  _ but he still does not know the actually actor himself. He is not in his grade. Then suddenly, the director cuts into the flirting and says, “Ned comes over to Felix and sits beside him. Then he leans over and kisses him. The kiss becomes quite intense. Then Ned breaks away, jumps up, and begins to walk around nervously.”

Of course, neither move, and instead, just continue on with the scene but Craig just loses all sense of focus; Tweek is going to  _ kiss _ someone? Craig didn’t realize this was such a love story. He suddenly feels slightly ill, his chest heavy and the pit of envy in his stomach going wild. 

It only gets  _ worse  _ as the play goes on; the characters get closer and closer, becoming  _ lovers _ . He grovels through the rest of the read-through, counting down the minutes until it’s over; the deep pitted jealousy inside him completely consuming him by the end of the read-through.

The director thanks them all for coming and releases them. 

Craig watches the two lovers on stage; Tweek and  _ Bridon,  _ apparently. He learned the name when the director thanked all the leads for their read-throughs. 

This is going to be a long few weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the end of this chapter was ehhhhhh~~~ but it is just sort of a tease of what’s about to come :) hope you liked it ❤️


	20. Rehearsals

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks soooooo much for the outpour or support. You guys seriously inspire me and motivate me to get this out as fast as possible! :) 
> 
> Also I forgot to mention: I do not own The Normal Heart dialogue lol.
> 
> Also, shout out again and forever to ambercreek95 for helping me with ideas for this fic. :) 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!

Craig dips his paint brush into the blue paint and paints onto the cardboard bookshelf. Clyde stands beside him and paints a different section of the “bookshelf”, except in red, instead of blue. As he paints, his eyes drift to Tweek and Bridon.

The pair practices the scene the bookshelf is in; the scene where the two first kiss. Whenever they practice the scene, they roll right over the kiss with a set of matched giggles. Somehow the giggles make him feel worse than if they actually kissed. At least that would just be the characters, not Tweek and Bridon, themselves. The director does not pressure them to kiss, but says in later weeks, they will definitely have to do it. This goes for all the kisses throughout the play, not just the bookshelf scene.

Craig’s stomach curls over at the thought. He tries to ignore it and _them_ , but it’s damn near impossible. He shakes his head and looks back to the bookshelf.

Clyde is too distracted with Bebe to notice where Craig’s attention lies. Craig feels bad for him; he really does. He is not sure if Bebe actually likes Nichole or not, but he knows she sure as hell doesn’t like his hopeless best friend.

“Dude, you have to get over her.”

“Dude — I can’t. I know you have no feelings or whatever, but I do,” Clyde says. “think I love her.”

Craig glances towards Nichole and Bebe who are off to stage right — a term he learned within the last couple days. Nichole holds up some shirt, and Bebe nods with a smile in approval. He looks back to Clyde.

“You wanna come over after practice?” He asks, with a prolonged sigh carried out in his tone.

“Sure, dude, that could help me take my mind of her.”

“Yes. That’s the point.”

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you, Craig.” Clyde beams at him and throws an arm around him. Craig jerks away from the touch.

“Why do you always have to touch me, dude?”

“Cuz’ I love you, bro, and I’m worried you’re not getting enough attention.”

Craig frowns at his friend. “What?” He asks.

“Yeah, bro, I don’t know... Sometimes I just worry about you. I feel like you really don’t have feelings sometimes, and that makes me feel bad because it’s good to feel things.”

Panic begins to rise inside him. He _wishes_ he had no feelings; that would make his life a lot easier. “Well... you have enough for both of us,” he says instead. Craig dips his paintbrush into the blue paint, and keeps his eyes on the cardboard as he paints over it.

“I know, but like... even the bad feelings, they’re good, ya know?”

“You’re happy to be a wreck about Bebe?” Craig eyes him with a an indent to his brow.

“I’m not a wreck,” Clyde holds up a hand in defense and lets out a nervous chuckle. Craig narrows his eyes on his friend, and the chuckle dies instantly. “Okay, fine, I’m a wreck, but I rather feel this way than nothing at all...” Clyde paints onto the cardboard carelessly and scatters the paint where it’s not supposed to go. He doesn’t seem to care though. “And I just I’ve been thinking about you...”

“You’ve been thinking about me?”

“Yeah!” Clyde nearly shouts as he makes eye contact. “ I just... it makes me sad because you never open yourself up to love, dude. You’re so closed off. You refuse to love anyone.”

“That’s ... not true,” Craig flicks his eyes back down to the cardboard.

“It is! You never _like_ anyone... _maybe_ Millie in ninth grade, but then you broke up with her! Like, is it the intimacy that scares you?”

“Dude, I know you’re in a Psych class, and you think you are some sudden expert on the psyche, but fuck off.”

Clyde pouts, but drops it, and continues on with the rest of the paint job. Craig tries his best to stay focused, but that Bridon kid is just so loud and bold; it’s hard to ignore him.

Nearing the end of practice, he walks over to Tweek.

“You’re doing really well.”

“Oh, you’re watching me?” Tweek coyly smiles.

Craig flushes. “Um, no, I just... noticed. I guess? I don’t know. It’s not like I have anything better to do while painting a fake bookshelf.”

The smile on Tweek’s face turns into a frown, and the brightness in his amber eyes dims. He takes in a breath before he says, “yeah, well, thanks, Craig.”

He doesn’t give Craig a chance to respond, instead, just turns around and begins to chat with Bridon again, even though they just spent the entire rehearsal together. Craig watches a moment with a stony glare before he retreats out of the auditorium.

Xxx

The next day, he works on props backstage, so he doesn’t actually see Tweek and Bridon together. Instead, he only hears them. At first, he likes it better this way, but as the rehearsal goes on, his feelings change. Craig almost feels desperate to watch, especially when they break character, and it becomes _Tweek and Bridon,_ as opposed to _Ned and Felix._

Instead, he has to look at the stupid cardboard desk he paints with Clyde. Although, at least they are done with the bookshelf.

“Do you think that Bridon kid is gay? Like — would someone who is not gay want to do this shit?” Craig asks in a hushed tone.

Clyde shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean it’s acting, right?”

“Would you do it?”

“Hell yeah, chicks love gay guys, dude.”

Craig rolls his eyes and looks towards the curtains, behind which are Tweek and Bridon, along with a an abundance of other characters. It’s currently a group scene. Yet, the he still feels irritated whenever he hears the two interact, or when he hears Bridon’s voice in general.

“How would you get chicks if they think you’re gay?” He returns his eyes to his friend, a rigid line across his mouth.

“Haven’t you ever seen any 2000’s movie or sitcom? You sneak into the sleepover, make moves; suddenly you’re in an orgy.”

“Sounds more like a porno than a movie...,” Craig says in a monotone, and dips his brush into the paint, eyes downcast. When he looks up to paint the cardboard desk, he notices Clyde looks slightly distraught.

“Ya know? Maybe it was... but, hey, porno, movie, either way! It could happen!”

“If you could make that happen I would never make fun of you for anything ever again.”

“Shit,” Clyde’s eyes are wide and hopeful. His lips curl into a shy smile and his eyebrows lift. “You think it could really work?”

“No, Clyde. There is no fucking way.”

Clyde pouts and brushes the desk with his own paint brush, eyes downcast. “Dude, that would be so hot.”

Craig doesn’t even bother to pretend to agree. Lately, he has been giving less and less of a fuck about resembling Clyde, in regards to his opinions of girls. He has been giving less and less of a fuck about girls, in general. He doesn’t remember the last time he even considered dating, or doing anything else with a girl. Instead, he just thinks about Tweek.

Even in his dreams, he thinks of Tweek. Some are innocent. They just feature Tweek, and some mundane activity. Most of them, though, are very far from mundane. Most are, in fact, wet dreams. It’s embarrassing as fuck. He tries to tell himself they are meaningless, but the dreams themselves are not really the problem. The problem is how often he _thinks_ about the dreams when he is _not_ asleep. 

His Tweek wet dreams are somehow better than the actual sex he’s had in real life. He refuses to acknowledge what this means. He sort of knows, but he still will not admit it. He feels like there is a blockade in his brain where he is supposed to regulate feeling and emotion.

He shakes his head and pushes the thoughts away. He focuses on Clyde. He is in no way, at all, in any shape or form, a threat to his identity crisis. Instead, he is just his pathetic and sad best friend, but he is safe.

“Is Heidi still with Kyle — Cartman, whatever?”

“Bebe said that she likes Kyle, but is not sure she wants to commit because of all the drama that group has.”

“Okay. So, what about Heidi?”

“Heidi? What about her?”

Craig rolls his eyes. “Why don’t you ask her out?” 

“What? Dude, that would totally ruin my chances with Bebe!”

“Clyde,” Craig stares into his best friend’s eyes, praying he gets the message somehow through his thick skull. “She is never going to come around, dude.”

Clyde stares blankly. He blinks, hurt spread across his features, through his sad brown eyes and deep frown. “Did Nichole say something? I know you guys are friends.”

“What.” Craig does his best to stay neutral. “No. Dude, it’s just obvious, and it’s seriously starting to concern me. You know I don’t say this lightly, Clyde. I’m serious. Move on.”

Clyde inhales deeply. He bows his head down. “You really think that there is no chance?” His voice is low and strained. He looks down at the paint can, twirling his brush around inside it. His bottom lip sticks out and his shoulders cave inward.

“Dude, I wouldn’t be saying this shit to you if I wasn’t serious.”

Clyde releases a deep sigh and pulls his paint brush up. He glides it against the cardboard desk, sad eyes steady on his hand. “Man... this sucks. Love... _sucks_.”

Craig sucks in a breath and blinks down to look at the paint can. “Yeah,” he says, “it does.”

* * *

  
  


On Wednesday morning, he walks and talks with Tweek down the hallway after first period like usual. Tweek immediately begins to stress over something, which is also usual.

“I can’t get anyone to take my shift tomorrow. I have to tell Ms. P that I can’t make it. What if she cuts my part?”

“That won’t happen.”

“But what if it does.”

“You need to believe in yourself more, dude.”

“It’s not about believing in myself — it’s about missing rehearsal!”

“So... call off.”

“I can’t — what if I’m fired?”

“You won’t be fired. Have you even used a call off before?”

“They know I wanted today off! They are going to know I’m not sick.” 

Craig sighs. With evert piece of logic Craig hands Tweek, Tweek comes up with some very unlikely probability to argue back with. He cannot imagine being inside his brain and constantly fighting that battle. They reach the corner where they usually part, and Craig grabs both of the blonde’s shoulders. The blonde looks slightly startled, but releases a small smile. Craig smiles back, “it’s going to be fine, either way. Whatever you do, everything’s going to be exactly the same.”

Tweek huffs out a bit of air through his nostrils and sucks on his bottom lip. An indent appears his forehead. Craig is not sure if Tweek believes him, or not. He goes with the latter, but he hopes he has at least done something for him.

He lets him go. Craig’s shoulders fall as he examines Tweek; the curls that brush over his forehead and his soft, brown eyes. “I’ll see you at rehearsal later.”

Tweek nods, and they both make their way to their designated locations.

* * *

Before rehearsal starts, Tweek tells Ms. Prevost he will miss rehearsal tomorrow. While she seems slightly annoyed, she says it is fine. Tweek is half sure she hates him now, but at least he still has his part in the play.

“Hey, Tweek,” Bridon greets him with a smile.

He smiles back. “Hey,” he says. “So, look, I won’t be here tomorrow. I told Ms. P, but I just thought I’d let you know too?”

Bridon smiles and nods. “Yeah, thanks, Tweek. I appreciate that, but I’ll miss my leading man,” he winks at him.

Tweek nervously laughs and nods. Bridon passes by him, and the moments over. Tweek is sure he is painted with blush. Bridon is handsome. He has thick, brown hair that sweeps over his forehead, and bright blue eyes. They are around the same height, but Bridon is maybe an inch taller.

Wendy and Bebe, who were previously standing close by, stride up to him. “Ooooh,” Wendy smiles. “He was totally just flirting with you!” Wendy grabs his shoulder, making him think of the last person who touched his shoulder, which was Craig. She shakes him slightly.

He does not know if he is friends with Wendy Testaburger, _or_ when and how it happened. Every now and then, she will come up to him and act like they are the _best_ of friends. She is nice enough, but it’s weird because he hears Stan’s group rag on her so much.

Bebe is just the same. He is friends with her, and then, _not_. Sometimes he’ll go _weeks_ without talking to the girls, but other times he’ll be included in their group chats and spa days. 

“That was _totally_ flirting,” Bebe says.

“He’s _hot_ too!” Wendy says a little too loudly. Tweek glances around to see if Bridon is around still. Bridon is not around, but Craig and Clyde _are._ They stand at the side of the auditorium, and Tweek swears he caught a glimpse of them staring. 

“Yeah,” Bebe adds plainly with a nod. “He’s really hot.”

“I mean, yeah, he’s _hot,_ ” Tweek whispers in comparison to the girls’ octaves. “But I don’t think he likes me.”

“Ha,” Bebe shakes her head. “He totally does. Do you see the way he looks at you?”

“It’s acting.”

“It’s not always acting.”

Tweek bites on one of his nails. “Really?” 

“Totally!” Wendy beams.

He should feel excited that a boy likes him, but he just doesn’t care. In fact, he doesn’t want Bridon to like him. He just wants someone else to. He eyes Craig and _catches_ him this time. He is _totally_ eavesdropping.

Craig looks away and Tweek looks back to the girls. “That could really complicate things with the show.”

“Kind of makes it more hot though,” Wendy smirks and offers a wink. Her and Bebe laugh, and Tweek forces himself to join. 

Bridon is cute and nice, but he doesn’t want Bridon. He wants Craig; _stupid, Craig_ , who he’ll probably never have. 

After his conversation with Bebe and Wendy ends, he walks over to the two eavesdropping boys on the sidelines. He is about to greet them, but Clyde immediately asks, “did Bebe say anything about me?”

“ _Dude_ ,” Craig inhales and blinks hardly before he turns his head to the brunette. “I thought you were going to try to get over her?”

“I _am,”_ Clyde whines, his face slightly scrunched up. “But if she’s interested, then, I don’t have to get over her.”

“Oh, yeah… that makes a _ton_ of sense.”

“Yeah!” Clyde brightens up. “So, I’m going to go talk to her!” He steps away from the wall and towards the blonde.

“Clyde! I was being sarcastic!” Craig calls, “you’re an idiot!” 

Craig sighs an exhausted manner, and turns his attention to the shorter boy in front of him. 

“Hey, Tweek,” Craig sounds slightly exasperated.

“Hey,” he says back. “I told Ms. P about tomorrow. She said it was fine.”

“See, I told you.”

“I’m convinced she hates me though.”

Craig cracks a smile. “I’m sure you’re fine.”

Tweek inhales a deep breath. He honestly briefly forgot about the situation. His thoughts, instead, linger on the boy in front of him. He wants to just stand here and talk to him all day. Sometimes he feels the other boy feels the same.

“Do you want to hangout after rehearsal today?” Tweek asks suddenly, acting on a burst of confidence.

Craig lights up slightly and says, “sure. You want to come over?”

Tweek panics and thinks of Thomas Tucker. “Uh, how about my place?”

“Sure,” Craig nods.

“Cool.”

He wishes it was this easy to ask him out. He lets out a breath. 

“Clyde … is probably going to, like, cry or something if we don’t invite him though… he’s really emotional right now.”

Tweek deflates and tries to hide his disappointment. It’s not that he doesn’t like Clyde. He _does_ , but he craves these moments alone with Craig. He doesn’t get enough of them. “Yeah. That’s fine.”

“Sorry.”

“For what?”

Craig shrugs and it makes Tweek want to scream. Instead he just composes himself and nods. “Okay, well, cool. I’ll meet up with you guys after rehearsal.”

* * *

It’s only been a week since he last saw Craig outside of school, but it feels like longer. He wants time alone with him, but instead he gets Craig and _Clyde_.

He makes them popcorn because Clyde claims to be _starved,_ and they all lounge on the couches in his living room together. Tweek puts on _Parks and Recreation_ but Clyde pretty much talks through it the entire time. Tweek doesn’t mind it though.

In fact, something interesting comes up, even.

“Oh yeah. Craig and I were wondering — Is Bridon gay? Craig doesn’t think a bro could kiss another bro, even in acting, without it being gay — so like is he gay?”

“That’s _not_ what I said, and also, shut the fuck up, Clyde,” Craig pinches his temple and looks down.

Tweek stares at the dark haired boy. “What did you say?”

Craig shrugs, and lets his hand fall from his temple. “I don’t remember, but not that.”

“Well, since Clyde is the only one currently providing evidence, I guess I believe him.”

Craig lifts his head up to glower at him. Tweek slyly smiles, satisfied with the effect of his words. “I just. I asked if someone who isn’t gay would be able to that.”

“It’s acting.”

“That’s what I said,” Clyde puts a hand up to Tweek for him to hive five. Tweek snickers and high fives the brunette. Tweek notices Craig’s glare intensify. 

“ _Whatever_ ,” Craig says. “He’s gay though, right?”

“I mean I _personally_ thought it was obvious,” Tweek puts a hand to his throat, “but. I guess you guys are very clueless.” Tweek glances at Clyde and then back at Craig. “But that doesn’t mean your theory is right.” He knows walks on a thin line, but he continues to ride it. “Would kissing a boy _seriously_ be that bad to you, Craig?”

“I said I would do it, Tweek! I’m a better friend. I’m not homophobe!”

“How does this make me homophobe?” Craig glares at Clyde. Tweek just stares at Craig. He swears he will lose his shit if he does not answer the question. 

Craig looks back to Tweek and says, “I mean — yeah. Why not?” He seems nervous; he blinks excessively and moves his leg repeatedly p. Tweek kind of feels bad now for grilling him about this stuff, especially in front of Clyde. He is just so tired of being confused about Craig.

“I mean, I get it. Acting isn’t for everyone,” Tweek shrugs. He raises an eyebrow, “and that’s what it is — _acting_.”

“I’m just glad Bebe isn’t in the play,” Clyde sighs, completely oblivious to the tension. “I would hate to watch her kiss anyone.”

Tweek exhales slowly and closes his eyes. He readjusts himself and his attitude, and then opens his eyes back to Clyde and Craig. “Yeah. That would be hard,” Tweek offers. 

Craig remains quiet for the rest of the afternoon.

  
  
  
  
  



	21. come on

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THANKS SO MUCH!!!!! Y’all are too good to me I swear :,)) You are all so nice and supportive. 
> 
> Once again, thanks to my Queen Ambercreek95 for giving me ideas and always listening to my brain. ALSO please go listen to “come on and mess me up” by Cub Sport. Amber told me that ti fits ~this fic~ and it SOOOOOo does. 
> 
> ALSO sorry if there are typos..... or whatever... it’s like 2 am but this is my fav chapter so far i think so i wanted to get it out there!

Thursday’s rehearsal without Tweek is bittersweet. On one hand, he doesn’t have to watch Tweek with Bridon. On the other, Tweek is not _here_ . He didn’t think he would actually care or really _notice_ his absence, but oddly, it feels heavy. 

He doesn’t get much time to interact with Tweek during rehearsal anyways. One day shouldn’t matter much, but apparently it does. He likes the extra time he’s gotten with Tweek in the last week and half. Even if it is just small segments; most of it far away, it’s enjoyable.

He definitely _notices_ his absence. While in rherseal, the “phone free zone,” he sneaks out his phone to send Tweek a message.

He thinks over it for a brief moment before he sends it. 

**CRAIG:** Hey, just wanted to let you know that you’re missed at rehearsal today.

It’s simple enough. It could mean that _everyone_ misses him; the _stage_ misses him. Both are probably true. He doesn’t know why he has such strong feelings to send it but he does. As soon as he presses the _send_ button, his stomach does a flip. He hastily shoves his phone back into his pocket afterward, in no interest of getting caught with it.

Today, he and Clyde apply tape to the stage floor. The director also asks them to move props as the scenes play out today. As he watches, he’s surprised Cartman does so well. He supposes, though, the character is as much of a dick as Cartman, so it must be easy.

Wendy plays a gay male character. Tweek’s understudy, some senior, fills in for his character. Tweek does a way better job, but the selfish part of him _enjoys_ that for just today, it’s a random senior — not _Tweek —_ who flirts and falls in love with Bridon.

The _chemistry_ or _bond,_ or whatever, lacks between Bridon and the senior though. In between scenes, Bridon barely gives the senior a look. They don’t giggle or converse as Bridon and Tweek do. When he thinks about this fact, his whole body stiffens and seems to fill with hot metal and iron.

He manages to sneak a look at his phone, but still does not see a text back. Logically, he knows he is at work, yet, he still feels disappointed to not see a response from Tweek yet.

  
  
  


Once rehearsal is over, Nichole pulls him aside as everyone else leaves. Clyde sticks by his side at first, but then Nichole says, “hey, do you mind if I talk to Craig alone for a minute?”

With a suggestive smirk and lift of his eyebrows, the brunette says, “yeah, he’s all yours.”

Craig rolls his eyes as he pushes his best friend away. Once Clyde departs, along with the rest of the student body, Nichole smiles wide at him.

“Craig, guess what!” Nichole sets her hands on his wrists. The physical contact is kind of strange, but it’s not _horrible,_ especially because he knows it is platonic. 

“You have been promoted to head costume designer?”

Nichole laughs, “uh, no, but good guess?”

“I don’t really do guessing games. What is it?”

“I kissed Bebe last night!”

Craig’s eyes widen, and a smile shortly follows. “Seriously?” 

“Yes!” She beams at him. “It was amazing,” she relishes. 

“I’m really happy for you, for you both.”

Nichole extends her arms around him and pulls him into a hug. He’s surprised at first, but encircles his arms around her small torso after the initial shock passes. “I don’t think I would have done it without your support.”

“Really?”

She pulls away from the hug, the physical contact coming to an end with it. “Yeah! You were really helpful.”

He smiles, but eventually, his thoughts gravitate towards his best friend. It becomes a little more difficult to smile with Clyde on his mind. “I’m glad I could help, although, I still don’t think I did _much_.”

“You did more than you think,” she promises. “If there is anything you ever want to talk about… I’m here for you, by the way.”

He pauses and examines her. She is extremely solemn and sincere with the offer. He stares, and momentarily considers confining in her about Tweek. He doesn’t even know where he would begin though, so he doesn’t.

“Thanks.”

“Anytime.”

* * *

After his mother heckles him for a straight hour about signing up for an SAT prep course, his father decides to pile on to his already building headache. 

“I was talking to Billy at Skeeters… and he was telling me about this play you’re doing,” his father says in a gruff tone.

Craig looks at him from the couch and over his phone, (which still lacks a response from Tweek.)

“Who is _Billy?”_

“The janitor at your school, Craig. You worked with him for, like, a month.”

He recalls having seen the name tag. He just refused to memorize it. His whole body fills with dread and gloom. He feels his bones rattle inside him; his body and mind begging to get as far away from this situation as possible.

“I forgot his name,” he mumbles, eyes focused on the TV even though it’s off.

“He said the play’s about… the AIDS crisis? Says a lot of… Well, says it's very… I don’t know… You know, you’re in the play.”

“I’m a stagehand.”

“Same difference.”

“What’s your point, dad?” He glares at his father. 

His father frowns. “You just don’t want people getting the wrong idea. If you associate yourself with these kinds of people… People might see you that way too.”

He glances at his mother. She frowns and glares at his dad, but does not say a word. Craig rolls his eyes and stands up. “I’m going for a walk.”

Thankfully, neither his father, nor mother, argue with the statement. He pulls a jacket off one of the hooks and heads outside. It’s gotten chillier in the last week. November finally seems to feel like November now. 

There is a weight in his chest that refuses to go away, even as he gets further and further away from his residence. He feels an eternal dread in having to turn around and go back.

He feels incredibly alone. He almost wishes he took Nichole’s offer earlier today and just unleashed everything on his mind. Although, he doesn’t know what he’d say. He just knows that he thinks about Tweek way more than he should for a friend; way more than he ever thinks about Clyde. He, in fact, should probably be thinking about his inevitability of a broken-heart best friend, but his mind won’t stop in its orbit. It’s just on Tweek, and he has no idea how to make it stop — if he even wants it to stop. 

All he knows is that he desperately wishes for a text back.

As if he had unknowingly wished on a fallen star, his phone dings.

**TWEEK:** Sorry! Busy day. Think everyone is preparing for thanksgiving, or something?? I didn’t even get a break!!! But I missed rehearsal today too. How was it?

Craig stares at the text and gulps. In a spur of the moment choice, he calls him.

“Hello?” 

“Hey.”

“Hey,” Tweek says, “W-what’s up?”

“Sorry,” he inhales. “I know that we don’t talk on the phone a lot.”

“It’s okay.”

“I just… wanted to talk to you, I guess.”

“Oh,” Tweek quips, “um, about anything particular?”

“I’m just… I don’t know. My parents are annoying.”

“Yeah? What happened?”

Craig susks in a breath and stares down the empty street. A couple people have already decorated their houses for Christmas. “I don’t know. Just being annoying…” he supplies lamely. “I left my house to go on a walk.”

A beat passes before Tweek says, “well, uh, do you want company on your walk? I’m off now, so… I mean, I can.”

“Haven’t you been on your feet all day?”

“Um, yeah, but, I don’t know — it’s fine.”

Craig bites on his bottom lip. He sighs and his shoulders fall. “What about the playground? We can sit on the swings again.”

“Yeah, okay, sounds good. I’ll see you there soon.” Craig can practically hear the smile in his tone. It causes a smile to blossom on his face as well.

“Okay,” Craig says. “See you then.”

Craig walks his way to the playground, which is pretty close, as are most things in the small town of South Park. He gets there before Tweek, and plops down on one of the swings. He kicks his adidas sneakers against the wood chips and glides backwards as he waits.

Eventually, the blonde male appears. He spots him from several yards away, and his chest swells more and more the closer he gets. Tweek waves and he returns it. He wears the same clothes he did at school; apparently Whole Foods doesn’t make you look like a complete loser as does the pizza place he works at. 

Tweek takes a seat on the swing next to him. 

It’s weird to him that they were here merely two days ago. It somehow feels longer. He just _really_ likes being around Tweek; the absence of him becoming more and more prominent it seems.

“So, are you going to tell me what happened?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That pretty much figures.”

“How was work?”

Tweek goes into a rant about how Christmastime brings out the worst in people, at least within the consumers of retail. He complains about multiple different customers and his coworker, who seems to believe they are the boss. He complains that the Amazon Flex workers gave him attitude, along with some scary corporate man who came in today.

Craig listens attentively, happy to take his own troubles off his brain.

When Tweek’s rage-filled rant simmers down, Craig says, “Tweek, do you ever think about scholarships, or anything? Or maybe, federal grants? I mean, maybe you don’t need to work yourself to death. Maybe you could go to college, and get a scholarship, and then… I don’t know — have that money on the side too.”

“That sounds way too perfect to be true,” Tweek cracks a smile at him. “Also, I told you, I don’t know about college.”

“I remember,” Craig says it because he feels it is somehow important. Based on the little twitch to Tweek’s lips, he decides it was. “I just — It’s still an option right?”

Tweek titles his head back and forth. “I mean, yeah, but nothing’s ever easy for me it seems.”

Craig sucks in a breath and licks his lips, probably causing them to be chapped later on from the cold. “My mom is making me do one of those SAT prep classes… maybe you could come to one with me.”

Tweek cracks a smile again. His voice is light when he says, “sounds like you just want someone to suffer with you.”

“No, I just care about your future and well being.”

Tweek stares a moment, then swallows and looks away. “So… is this why you’re upset with your parents? They are making you go to a SAT prep course, and now you’re trying to do the same to me?”

Craig thinks of his father. “No,” he denies. “I mean… my mom was, but then my dad… it doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head and looks at the wood chips beneath his feet. He digs into the ground a bit with his heel.

“It matters.”

He doesn’t look up, just exhales. He can’t bring up his father. The words just refuse to come out. “It’s more than just my parents, I feel bad about Clyde.”

“I thought you normally relish in his anguish?”

Craig meets the amber orbs next to him and cracks a half-smile. “Only slightly,” he says. “This is different though.”

“How?”

“You can’t repeat it.”

“O-kay.”

He wouldn’t just tell anyone about Nichole and Bebe’s private information. He is very far from a gossip, but he trusts Tweek. He knows the information is safe, and he needs some advice or consoling. 

He tells Tweek the whole story; from homecoming to just his afternoon, including his encouragement for Bebe and Nichole. Tweek stays quiet the whole duration of the story with big, wide eyes, although his eyes are always big.

When he is finally done, he says, “I’m done. You’re free to comment.”

“Thanks,” a giggle falls from the other male’s mouth. He straightens up in his swing before he speaks, “that sounds pretty… _complicated_ , but… I mean, Clyde will be okay, right?”

Criag shrugs. “I’m sure he will… eventually… but he just gets _so_ sad over stuff like this.” He stares at the playground equipment. Clyde has had a crush on Bebe since they were kids. “And, I don’t know. Do you think I’m a shitty friend?” 

He looks over to Tweek who sits on the swing next to him. His amber eyes are already on him. A tender smile crosses Tweek’s lips as he says, “no, I really don’t.”

Tweek’s nose and cheeks glow bright red from the cold air. He wears a yellow knit scarf, and his blond curls gently blow against the wind. He keeps his gaze on him, his chest and belly warm despite the cold weather. “You’re sure?” Craig asks.

“I’ve never seen you care so much about what kind of friend you are.”

“I care.”

“Really? Because the way you insult Clyde… sometimes, if I didn’t know you better, I’d think you actually hate him.”

“I do hate him, but he’s still my best friend.”

“Ah, makes sense.”

A brief pause follows the statement. They do not break eye contact though, expect for a couple of blinks. Craig’s heart palpitates at the attention. The eye contact is intimidating, and fills his whole body with a different kind of weight, but he can’t look away.

“Also, I care about what you think of me,” he chooses to say in quiet, hushed words. In order for the quiet words to reach the blond, he edges closer to him. The chains of the swing pull with his movements.

Tweek mimics his actions and moves closer, as well.

“I used to think you didn’t care about what anyone thought of you,” Tweek’s voice is equally matched in tenderness and whisper.

“Well... I’ve always cared about what you thought.”

He’s not sure why, but in the darkness of South Park, he feels a lot less afraid. He is _scared,_ but this magnetic attraction to Tweek Tweak is stronger. As he sees Tweek smile so tenderly at him that his entire body inflates with desire to be closer, he can’t help but do just that. 

The chains of the old swing tug as Tweek moves closer as well. In a final blow to separation, Tweek leans in. Craig doesn’t think he’s ever been this close to the blonde before; has never felt his breath until now. He realizes, in this moment, that Tweek’s amber eyes are the most beautiful he’s ever seen.

But then, his amber irises flick down in his mouth. He inhales and mirrors the other male’s eye movement. He thinks Tweek’s lips are more appetizing than any girls’ he’s ever seen. His stomach ties in knots as he dips his head down to further close the gap between them.

Then, before anything else can happen; before he can feel more than just the other male’s breath, the moment’s over with the shrill of his phone. Both males flash their eyes open and Craig jumps backward. Tweek lets the swing take him back to his original spot as well.

Craig hurriedly pulls his phone from his pocket, if not to just shut the shrill thing off. When he sees who it is, his heart drops. It’s his dad. Panic rises inside him. His heart beats rapidly as he accepts the call.

“Hey, dad,” he says, as if he is out of air. Maybe he is. It feels like his chest is deflating.

“Hey, Craig. Look, your mom and I are worried… It’s pretty cold out there, why don’t you come home?”

“Yeah, yeah.. I’ll be there soon.”

“Okay… love you, son.”

“Love you too,” Craig says it back; his words in a cloud of a sigh.

He hangs up his phone, and is met with silence. His heart pounds in his chest still. He can’t bring his head up to look at Tweek. He stands up, instead. Without meeting him in the eye, but rather over his shoulder, he says, “that was my dad… I have to get home, but … uh, thanks… for tonight.”

Tweek mumbles a goodbye out, and Craig walks away before he can say much else; feeling like every single molecule in his body is going to burst. He walks at an extremely fast pace, not sure if his heart is pounding from the speed or what just almost happened on the swing set.

He lets out a deep breath.

He feels dread in his whole body. They almost just kissed.

He can’t take that back. It happened. It’s there. 

Fear consumes him. He has no idea what his next step is after this. He wants to take it back, but he doesn’t. He’s happy for the phone call, but also extremely devastated. He feels completely rampant with emotions that he does not know or _want_ to sort out.

  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahahahahahahh pls don’t kill me :) 
> 
> Pls tell me ur thoughts. OK BYE! Hoped you guys liked it. :)


	22. after the fact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BRO the line formatting on this is weird and idk how to fix it, so i’m sorry. I’ve had a rough 36 hours, please don’t come for me.
> 
> ANYWAYS
> 
> THANKS SO MUCH YOU GUYS! I never imagined this story would have so much support. You guys are my everything.
> 
> SPECIAL SHOUT OUT TO MY WIFE FOR LIFE, Ambercreek95, for constantly helping me with my plot and everything else.

It's 3:34 am and Tweek is sure sleep’s off the agenda for tonight, as his alarm will go off in 3 hours, and his mind is completely awake with thoughts of Craig Tucker.

It feels as if he's snorted cocaine, or drank 3 consecutive pots of coffee. The almost-kiss was a spark and now his mind is a forest fire of expansive thoughts. He doesn't even bother to extinguish it because, for the first time in a long time, he has hope that his feelings are mutual.

He wants to text him or see him. He wonders how tonight would've gone without Thomas Tucker's call; how life would be without his homophobia.

He's sad for Craig. While Tweek's parents are the absolute worst, even _they_ were supportive of his sexuality. His father, a huge dick, said, "having a gay son will be good for business," which was shitty, but accepting, at least.

He wishes Craig would accept himself the way he should — the way Tweek would accept him. He's never seen Craig look so scared as he did when his dad called. He simultaneously feels heartbroken and full of hope at the same time, which makes him feel slightly guilty.

He wants to march up to the Tucker household and dish out onto Craig's father; explain how much his son is hurting, and how he's the one to blame.

He wants to love Craig in the way he deserves to be loved. He wants to tell him it's going to be okay and erase the hurt from inside him. He'll replace it with admiration and acceptance because the truth is, Tweek loves him.

He isn't sure if he ever stopped..

Xxx

Craig stands on his lawn as he waits for Clyde's red convertible to appear. He has a stabbing pain in the back of his head from the lack of sleep; thoughts of Tweek keeping him up all night. In last minute desperation, he even some of his mother's coffee, but it didn't seem to work, he still feels like absolute shit.

When Clyde's convertible finally pulls up, he immediately notices the grimace on his friend's face. He wearily takes his place in the passenger seat, praying to god that for once in his life, Clyde will bottle up his emotions.

As they drive away from his house in silence, Craig becomes even wearier. He still doesn't ask though, really not in the mood for Clyde’s melodrama.

God ignores his prayer, for two blocks away from the Tucker residence, Clyde says, "aren't you going ask what's wrong?"

Craig faces the street ahead of them and inhales sharply. "Sure," he lets out a long exhale. This is why he never prays. "What's wrong, Clyde?"

"Bebe," his friend's voice is tight and ridged. Usually, when the brunette brings up the blonde, he sounds a lot more whiney. Now, instead, he sounds angry. A pang of guilt shoots through him. He has honestly been so focused on Tweek that he’s completely forgotten about Bebe.

"What about her?" He plays dumb.

"She's been leading me on this whole time," Clyde stares straight ahead with a stony expression. "Last night… she came out to me, dude. She's _gay_."

Craig bites his lip, really not in the mood to fess up right now.

"She said I'm the sweetest guy she's ever been with, but she's just — not into boys anymore."

"Anymore?" Craig eyes his friend with a curious look. He thinks of Clyde’s positive and opposite reaction when Tweek came out. "If she's only into chicks, then I don't think she was ever into boys."

"Well, she has sex with me."

Craig almost laughs but restrains himself. "So? Maybe she didn't know then? That was over a year ago." Craig knows if they had slept together recently, Clyde would have told him.

Clyde shakes his head. "Well, if she was into me, then, how isn't she now?"

Craig scoffs. "Dude. Did you not hear me? Maybe she thought she was at the time… it's not, like, some obvious thing to everyone."

"Whatever. She's been playing me since homecoming." Clyde tightens his grip on the steering wheel. "You're right. She's a bitch."

"I honestly think you're being a little harsh."

"Harsh?" The male glares at the other. "How? She broke my heart, bro!"

Craig sighs and tightens his jaw. He thinks of the girls he had sex with before. It was extremely unenjoyable, and yet, he still continued to pursue girls. "I just think you could be a little more sensitive… I mean, how did you even react to her coming out to you? It couldn't have been easy for her to do."

"Who the fuck are you, bro? Sensitive? You constantly say I'm too sensitive." Clyde shakes his head angrily. "Whose side are you on, man?"

"I'm not on anyone's side. I just think you're sort of being a dick."

This sets Clyde off. He steers to the side of the street, and looks at his friend with a hard and menacing glare. "Oh, I'm a dick? Get out of my car, then."

Craig lets out a scoff of laughter. "Are you serious?" He tilts his chin down, eyes agape on his friend. "Clyde, we are literally three blocks away from school."

"Then it shouldn't be too bad of a walk then," Clyde states blankly, tightening his jaw.

Craig scoffs and shakes his head as he gathers his things to exit the convertible. Once he steps onto the sidewalk, he raises a middle finger at his so-called best friend. His best friend simply ignores him and speeds away. Craig turns to face the car, and with his middle finger high in the air, shouts, "dick!"

He half-considers skipping school. It would be a lot easier that way. He could avoid all his problems — Clyde seemingly one of them now. Although, that could mean another two weeks with the janitor, and he is not sure that'd be worth it.

So, instead, he drags his feet and shows up late to morning announcements. He walks up to the second camera, and Kenny furrows his eyebrows at him.

Despite being a bad kid, Craig doesn't remember the last time he showed up late.

After morning announcements end, Kenny greets him with, "you look like shit today."

"Thanks."

"And you were late — that's very unlike you."

Craig shrugs, not even knowing where'd he start in explanation. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Nichole. "I'll catch you later McCormick," he mumbles, noncommittally. He walks away from the blond and towards the dark-skinned girl instead.

"Hey,"

"Hey, Craig."

He glances around to make sure no one is listening before he says, "Clyde told me about Bebe."

Nichole frowns and nods. "Yeah, he didn't take it too well," she eyes on the desk in front of her. She mindlessly moves her hands over the papers on it. "Bebe is kind of upset."

"Clyde … he's just sad, and he is taking it out in the wrong way," Craig's shoulders drop with a sigh. "He'll come around though."

She nods, then smiles at him again, but it's sorrowful kind. "I hope so. Bebe really cares about him."

Craig nods. He considers bringing up Tweek again, but as he stands there, nothing comes out of his mouth. Out of the silence, Nichole says they should get to class.

Craig takes small steps to his first-period classroom. He isn't sure how he is supposed to face the person he's been thinking about non-stop since last night. He has no idea what he wants from this, or maybe that's a lie. He wants these feelings to go away, but every time he tries to push them away, it's almost as they come back stronger.

When he walks into the classroom, his instantly locks eyes with Tweek. It feels like the whole world stops in sight of those amber orbs. He has to remind himself to breathe and move forward. He inhales and ducks his head down as he walks to his desk.

He tries to keep his head down, but the magnetic pull wins again. He raises his eyes to gaze at the blond two seats ahead of him. He can only see the back of his head, but his heart pounds furiously in his chest, nonetheless.

His blonde curls come down just above his mock turtle neck, a thin slice of fair skin showing between the fabric and his soft, blonde curls. His slender shoulders jerk ever so slightly, meaning he either way too caffeinated, or is extremely anxious.

His stomach knots. He wonders if Tweek is anxious because of him. He doesn't want to upset him, nor be the reason his shoulders jerk. He frowns as he looks upon Tweek, resting his chin in his hand. He spends the whole class period doing this; not retaining a single word his teacher says.

As the class nears its end, his anxiety spikes up at the inevitable Tweek encounter.

Once the bell rings, he springs out his pitiful gaze and begins to pack his things. Tweek finishes first, as he just stuffs everything into his backpack in no order. The shorter male walks up with a smile to greet him. The dark-haired male greets him back before they awkwardly shift out of the classroom and into the hallway.

Silence hangs between them as they walk down the hallway. Craig hopes the noise of the student body will block out his pounding heart. He considers waiting for Tweek to choose a topic, but in a swing of panic, he worries Tweek will choose the topic of last night, so instead, he says, "Clyde is such a dick."

"Why?"

"He literally ditched me three blocks away from the school."

"Why?"

Craig sighs. He pushes his hand through his dark hair. "It's kind of a long story, but you have to believe me that he is a dick. I'll tell you about it later."

Tweek gives him a look of uncertainty but nods. Once they reach the end of the hall, where they usually split up, Tweek looks at him with big, amber eyes and says, "can we also talk about something else later?"

He isn't sure if it's from the implication of further conversation, or the look Tweek gives him, but his whole stomach does a flip. "Yeah, sounds good," he inhales deeply, nearly choking on the words in the process.

The rest of the day lingers on until it's time for lunch, and Clyde still holds an attitude against him. Token just glances between the two, perplexed and out of the loop. Neither fills him in.

XXXX

There is always a fifteen-minute break between the last bell and the start of rehearsal. Usually, Tweek heads to the auditorium early to start practicing lines, but today, he walks to Craig's locker. Craig raises his eyebrows at him upon arrival.

Tweek hugs his theater binder to his heavy chest. "Hey, you got a minute to talk before rehearsal?"

Craig stills and looks to his locker. He pulls out his Chemistry textbook and slides it into his backpack. "Oh. Yeah. I can tell you about Clyde."

Tweek inhales sharply and swallows. It acutely stings to be shot down like this. Craig has to know the real reason why Tweek came to his locker, but he nods anyway. "Sure. Yeah, you can tell me about Clyde."

They walk to the school's outside corridor and sit down at one of the tables. The weather is slightly grim; the temperature low and the sun hidden beneath a myriad of clouds. Luckily, there is not much wind, which makes it tolerable.

There is only one other pair at the corner of the corridor, the rest of it vacant. Tweek is surprised when Craig sits down so close to him, their thighs nearly touching. Tweek resists the urge to close that gap completely.

He waits for Craig to speak, patiently eyeing him and admiring just how long and dark the other male's eyelashes are. He is stuck between a pang of jealousy and admiration as he waits.

"So," Craig meets his gaze momentarily. He inhales and shakes his head slightly, looking down at his lap. "You know how I told you about Nichole and Bebe?"

"Yes."

Craig has such nice, dark, thick eyebrows, too. He is almost glad Craig's not looking at him because he would surely think he is some kind of a creep for staring so hard. But he can't help it, he could stare at him all day.

Craig explains Clyde's behavior this morning and it only pulls at Tweek's heartstrings more for the male. "I could try to say something to him."

"What would you say?" Craig eyes him.

"I don't know... Say he helped me a lot with how positive he was when I came out to him."

Craig chuckles, and it makes Tweek's heart swell. The corners of his lips tug into a gentle smile. "Did Clyde's reaction to you coming out actual matter that much to you?"

"No, obviously not," Tweek huffs out with a breathy laugh. He lifts one shoulder in a shrug, "but I don't know... maybe it'll make him reevaluate the way he reacted to Bebe... and then, I can tell him about how some people reacted negatively, and, ya know, just... that." The intense way Craig stares at him makes the butterflies in his stomach swarm.

"Did people react negatively?"

Tweek ponders over it a moment, eyes skimming over to the cement. He chooses his words carefully as he returns his amber eyes to hazel. "There were one or two people who did, but I don't know... I pretty much felt accepted by most," he admits. Craig bites gently on his bottom lip and nods in the slightest bit of movement. "My dad said it would be good for business."

Craig break's into a laugh. "What?" He blinks a few times. "How - why?"

"Please don't ask me to explain my parents' weird business strategies to you, Tucker, it'd take all day," he grins at the dark-haired male.

Craig's smile remains still as he says, "they gotta teach a business class."

"Oh, god, no," Tweek shakes his head and laughs along with the other. Tweek moves his leg unconsciously into Craig's, and both their laughter fades into a soundless gaze. Everything inside him screams to kiss him, but alas, they are in the midst of school property, and Craig probably be much opposed.

"We should probably go. I think we're close to being late."

"Oh, fuck," Tweek relinquishes, having somewhat completely forgotten about rehearsal.

They travel to the auditorium, again, standing pretty close to one another. Tweek's arm hits Craig's multiple times as they walk, and with every brush, another butterfly grows its wings.

He isn't sure he fully understands where Craig's head is at right now. He seems completely opposed to a conversation, yet leans into physical closeness. It seems like if he was planning to avoid it all, he would stray from physical proximity. Yet, Craig sits, stands, and walks much closer than before.

xxx

Craig is eternally grateful that most of the scenes today lack Bridon. Instead, Kenny and Stan take the stage beside Tweek, practicing the scene where “Craig” (Kenny) dies. Craig is surprised at the skills Kenny and Stan seem to possess, never really having paid much attention to them before this afternoon.

For the second day in a row, the director instructs Craig and Clyde to move props with the changing of scenes. Clyde continues to give him the cold shoulder, as he did at lunch and all the rest of the day. Craig just glowers at him; hoping that whatever Tweek says will fx his terrible attitude.

After a couple of rounds of practice for “Craig’s” death, the director pulls Stan and Kenny aside to offer some pointers. In this interval of free time, Tweek slips next to Clyde. Craig peers over from a couple of feet over, close enough to hear the dialogue.

  
Clyde fiddles with the cord of an old telephone prop.

“Hey, Clyde,” Craig hears Tweek say.

“Hey,” his friend’s eyes remain on the phone cord.

“You okay? You seem… down.”

Clyde takes his eyes off the old phone and looks at Tweek. “I’ve had a bad day… And I don’t know. I feel like no one’s on my side — not even Craig, and he’s supposed to be, like, my best friend.”

As Craig listens, he resists rolling his eyes. He wonders when Tweek is going to get to the point of the conversation. Before the blonde response, he glances back at Craig. As his eyes fleet away, Tweek says, “Craig isn’t the best at showing affection.”

Craig frowns. He knows it’s true, but it still hurts to hear, especially from Tweek.

“Yeah, he’s a dick, but like, he could try to be nice every once in a while.”

“Yeah… he should be more like you.”

Craig scowls at this.

“Thank _you,”_ Clyde lights up. “I agree.”

Tweek nods. Craig holds his glower. He considers inserting himself into the conversation, but he holds himself back. He trusts Tweek, even when he throws offensive remarks at him.

“You were really helpful when I came out… Just the way you reacted,” Tweek looks down and glides his hand along the desk the telephone sits on. “It was helpful. It’s always good when people respond positively.”

“Of course, dude! I don’t care about you being gay, you’re still my homie, and I love you. No homo, of course, but I love you, bro.”

Craig inhales sharply at this and rolls his eyes.

“Yeah,” Tweek looks up. “Thanks. Like I said, it was just cool how you were so supportive… It really sucks when people respond negatively. It’s happened to me before, and it made me feel like shit.”

“Yeah, that must be tough,” Clyde nods and crosses his arms over his chest. The expression on his face reads that he _totally_ gets it, and it kind of makes Craig want to punch him. _How is he this dense?_

“It is,” Tweek confirms. “Especially when you come out to people you care about and they react badly… It’s a shit feeling to feel like they don’t like you anymore because you’re gay, or something. It takes a ton of courage to come out… At first, it was hard for me to accept myself. I didn’t think I _was_ gay, at first. I thought… I don’t know… I just thought about boys a lot more, and it took me a long time to figure it out.”

Clyde nods and tugs on his bottom lip. The brunette looks down at the old telephone, and Craig thinks, _finally,_ maybe is starting to understand.

“And the worst part…” Tweek inhales, “is when people doubt you… when they say, _it’s just a phase,_ or, _but you liked that girl that one time,_ it’s just… It’s such a difficult thing to come to grips with, you know? And even though, I like being gay, and everything, it doesn’t mean that it’s always easy.”

A long pause follows Tweek’s words as Clyde’s eyes slowly grow larger. “Shit, dude,” he flashes his eyes up to the blonde. “You know, you may not know it, but what you just said was really helpful… excuse me.”

Clyde pushes past the curtains and into the backstage. Craig and Tweek follow behind him to witness the brunette charge toward the blonde makeup artist. He throws his arms around the stunned and startled girl, enclosing her in a tight and secure hug. “I’m so sorry, Bebe.”

“Woah, hey, Clyde,” she gasps, encircling her arms him. “It’s, uh, okay.”

“I hope you’ll still be my friend,” Clyde pulls away with a frown.

A smile spreads across the blonde girl’s face. She nods, “that would make me very happy.”

The two smile at each other before Clyde shifts his head to Nichole, who has been quietly observing on the side. He extends out his other arm to her, and pulls them both into a group hug. “We are all gonna be the best of friends, I just know it.”

The two girls laugh, but hug him back, and Craig perceives the scene in shock. He turns his head to Tweek who stands to the side of him. Tweek raises a smile at him. Once again, his entire chest swells with pride for Tweek Tweak.

He takes a couple steps over to him and says, “that was pretty impressive… but you didn’t have to include that shit about me.”

Tweek’s amber eyes gleam with mischief. “Didn’t I?” He asks.

Before Craig can respond, the director calls them back to position and Tweek saunters away, sending him a final, satisfied smirk. Craig freezes in admiration for the male. He doesn’t move until Clyde treads over to him.

“Hey, dude… Sorry, I _was_ being dick-y, earlier,” he says. “It was uncool.”

The corner of Craig’s mouth twitches upright. “As long as you don’t drop me off three blocks away when you drive me home today, I think we’re alright.”

Clyde grins and throws his arms around him. Craig lets out something between a sigh and chuckle as he embraces him back. “Thank God, dude, I missed you.”

Craig rolls his eyes and pushes him away after he decides the hug is too long for his liking. “Alright, calm down, it’s only been like eight hours.”

“Eight hours too long, dude.”

“Seeing as we at least go eight hours every night without each other, I don’t think it is.”

“Yeah, but we’re sleeping!” Clyde protests. “And also, sometimes I’ll dream about you, so really, I’m not even completely without you in those 8 hours.”

Craig scowls. “You dream about me?”

“You don’t dream about me?” Clyde pouts.

Craig furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. “No, that’s fucking weird, dude.”

“I mean, it’s not like, _weird_ dreams,” Clyde raises his eyebrows and widens his stare. “It’s like just random shit, like us eating a bunch of giant tacos.”

“What?” Craig narrows his eyes on his friend.

“Yeah,” Clyde sighs and looks into the distance. “That is _the_ dream, honestly.”

Craig shakes his head one last time at his friend before he returns to his place near the stage props. The director sets them up to rehearse the scene where “Craig” (Kenny) dies one last time. Although the scene is supposed to focus on the death of Kenny, Craig just keeps his eyes on Tweek.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hoped u like this chapter. I struggled very hard to write it for some reason. Also, I just want to say I HC Craig and Clyde as Nick and Schmidt from New Girl, so like................. idk that’s where I get the cryde vibe from. also, please dont hate clyde, he’s dumb, but he’s good at heart!
> 
> also, PePPermintzSuck drew craig and nichole being friends ;___; <3 https://mobile.twitter.com/Baaaarrrkkkk/status/1329895266225369089


	23. Double Date

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> Once again, thanks sooooo much for all the wonderful support. I LOVE YOU ALL DEEPLY AND IMMENSELY!!!! 
> 
> <333333
> 
> This is honestly one of my favorite chapters... so I hope you like it too. :) 
> 
> I know I say this every chapter, but thank u to my lovely ambercreek95 for giving me her brain ideas and support.... I owe you my life.

Craig manages to avoid the conversation with Tweek all weekend. Even though they spend the whole weekend texting, Tweek doesn’t try to bring it up. It’s a giant relief because he doesn’t know what he would say.

He can’t deny liking Tweek any longer, but guilt eats at him to do anything about it. It’s hot pitted anger deep inside him that continuously festers and boils. He feels sick, and he doesn’t truly understand why. It’s not like he has anything against anyone else being gay, but when it comes to himself, he can’t seem to accept it.

Shame and guilt consume him as he grasps his shaft, thoughts of Tweek Tweak in mind. Only after ejaculation does he feel any relief, although it doesn’t last long. Within a couple of minutes, he is back to the cycle of self loath and pity.  
  


In addition to avoiding the inevitable conversation with Tweek, he avoids his father completely. He stays in his room and only interacts when he comes down for food. He is happy he works all weekend because it both gives him an excuse in avoiding a potential hang-out Tweek, and his father; both for entirely different reasons, yet all the same.

Monday morning brings the sight of Tweek Tweak, and he is yet again, plagued with butterflies upon his visual. For the second time in a row, he barely catches a word in American History. When class ends and he walks down the hallway with Tweek, the blonde refrains from bringing the conversation, which Craig is eternally grateful for.

As the day goes on, he wonders how long he will be able to avoid it, along with the rest of his growing feelings. Because Thanksgiving break begins after school on Wednesday, he only has to make it through 3 days of avoidance. Although, the thought of not seeing Tweek over the long weekend twinges him; the alternative of communication almost seeming better.

At lunch, Clyde complains of love, which no one is surprised about. Craig still hasn’t told Clyde about his involvement with Nichole and Bebe. He doesn’t know if he _has_ to. Bebe is gay, there is no way she would have ended up with Clyde, anyways. Although, he still feels bad for his friend, especially since he is no longer being a dick about the situation.

Due to Token dating Wendy, he’s been looped into the knowledge of Bebe and Nichole. Craig even filled him in on how big of dick Clyde was about it. Token was not surprised.

“ _So,_ over the weekend, Bebe made me a list of all eligible bachelorettes at school,” Clyde pulls out his phone and bores into the screen. Craig and Token both furrow their brows at their friend. “I think by Christmas, with Bebe’s help, I can make one of them my girlfriend.”

“Wow, Clyde, you and Bebe are already on that level, huh?” Token asks.

“Token, we been on that level, okay?” Clyde dips his head to his friend with a cheesy grin. “Honestly, now that I know it’s _never_ going to happen, we’ve been getting along even better than before! It’s like I don’t have to worry about pissing her off, or like, turning her off, or whatnot. I can just be Clyde.”

“So, what’s you’re saying is, this friendship isn’t going to last long?” Craig asks, making Token nearly choke on his chocolate milk.

Clyde frowns. “You’re just jealous because you don’t have a lesbian best friend to make _you_ a list of the most eligible chicks.”

Craig holds his urge to roll his eyes. He _wishes_ he held even a tiny bit of envy towards the list. Instead, he is just envious Clyde finds any attraction in women.

“Luckily for you, I’m an awesome friend, and I share,” a sly smile rises on Clyde’s face. Craig stares blankly at him. “Here, take a look, Craigy. Maybe we can both get some action.” He passes his phone over to him. “Your sex and romance life have been super dry lately.”

Again, thoughts of Tweek flood his brain at the comment. He gulps in an attempt to swallow the thoughts, but they are as endless as a waterfall. He knows not a single name on this list is going to anyway take his mind of Tweek. Craig stares at the list of the girls and immediately notices Heidi is on it. “Heidi is on this?” He asks. “Isn’t she, like, dating Kyle, or Cartman — I don’t keep up with them.”

“Bebe said that Heidi is unsatisfied, I don’t know,” he shrugs and pulls his phone back from the other male. “Why? You’re interested?”

The waterfall of thoughts of Tweek grows faster and louder.

“No,” he looks away with a tiny cough. “I think she’d be good for you, though. She’s also in the play… so I don’t know. You could make a move there.”

“She is _pretty_ cute,” Clyde scratches his chin, eyes on his phone. “I’ll consider it.”

Craig barks out in laughter, “alright, you’d be lucky if you got _one_ of those girls off that list, but keep thinking you’re some kind of hotshot, buddy.”

Clyde flicks his eyes up to him and pushes out his tongue in defiance. “Whatever.”

Xxx

When he sees Clyde again at rehearsal, the brunette seems glummer. He’s been rejected 3 different times since lunchtime; trying and _failing_ to prove Craig wrong.

“As much as I hate saying I told you so… I told you so.”

“Liar. You love saying that shit.”

Craig smirks and lifts his shoulders in defeat. “You’re right. I do.”

“You’re such a jerk.”

“I enjoy being one,” Craig confirms, although, strangely, he does feel bad for his idiot best friend. Out of the corner of his eye, he spots Tweek in conversation with Heidi, and an idea strikes. He looks to Clyde, “but, I got you.”

Clyde’s eyebrows twist at his friend as he drifts away to Tweek and Heidi. Like Nichole, Heidi is one of the girls in the school he actually likes. He severely judges her interest in Eric Cartman, and even, Kyle, a little bit, but overall, she Is friendly and sweet. He truly thinks Clyde needs someone like her to constantly baby him.

They talk enough during their American Literature class, working together during peer review. Heidi is playing one of the only female characters in the play, the doctor, Emma. He walks in on a conversation consisting of _Cartman_. Cartman plays Ned’s (Tweek’s) jerk brother, and as much as Craig hates to admit it, he plays the role pretty well.

“He’s honestly being really sweet to me, lately, I don’t know. And Kyle and I aren’t even together — honestly, I’m not sure he even really _likes_ me,” she goes on. “We have only made out _once_ and we’ve been talking since at least homecoming! And I had to initiate it!” Heidi complains.

“They’re both terrible,” Craig cuts in.

“They aren’t terrible,” Heidi argues.

“To be fair… Cartman is,” Tweek says.

Heidi lets out a small sigh, cocking her head. “He is honestly really sweet sometimes… I feel like we might have a connection.”

Craig resists rolling his eyes. “He is a manipulative asshole. I wouldn’t trust that connection in the slightest,” Craig advises. She looks like she wants to say something else, but both because he needs to talk to Tweek alone and because he cannot take another word of defense towards Eric Cartman, he says, “Heidi, would you mind if I talked to Tweek alone for a minute?”

Heidi shrugs with a mumble of _sure_ and departs. Tweek looks over to the raven-haired boy with slightly raised brows and agape eyes.

Craig immediately realizes how this may look to Tweek and internally winces. “So.. this is actually about Heidi. You’re friends with her, right?”

Tweek’s face visibly falls as he says, “uh, yeah… I guess. I think the girls just kind of flock to me because I’m gay, honestly.”

“That’s a little… fucked up…. but, I was wondering if you knew anything about Heidi’s love triangle bullshit.”

Tweek eyebrows shift together. “I mean… I guess. You just heard some of it yourself. What else do you need to know, you gossip?”

Craig ignores the playful insult. “Do you think she’d be interested in someone else?”

Tweek’s eyebrows shift even further. “Why?”

“I’m trying to set her up with the cry baby over there,” Craig cocks his head to his frowning friend who stands a few feet behind them, looking down at his phone, probably at that damned list. “I like Heidi, and I think she’d be good for Clyde.”

Tweek lifts his chin at this statement, his mouth slightly agape. “Oh… for a second, I thought you were asking for yourself,” Tweek says in a light-tone, his nose tilted upward, and eyes glimmering with something that makes his stomach inflate.

Craig huffs out a chortle at this. “Oh, um… _no_ ,” his heartbeat races. He swallows, not knowing how to respond. “Just… Clyde.”

Tweek nods, sucking on his bottom lip. Craig’s eyes drift a moment at the appealing sight. However, he quickly shakes himself out of it and returns his gaze to the big amber saucers above Tweek’s pointed nose.

“Well, uh, I don’t know, man,” the mischief is replaced with concern now. “Kyle and I are friends. I would feel shitty doing that to him.”

Craig rolls his eyes slightly. “Fuck Kyle.”

“Dude, he’s not bad, and you know it! You’re just an asshole.”

Craig scoffs and crosses his arms. “That whole group consists of assholes.”

“Then why do you hang out with Kenny so much?”

“He’s the least of it.”

Tweek exhales and shakes his head. “I guess I can _see_ where Kyle’s head is at right now about Heidi, but I’m not helping until then, or even maybe, _after_ then, depending on his answer — I refuse to fuck with my friend’s emotions like that.”

Craig’s shoulders slump. “ _Fine_ ,” he slowly breathes out the word in a hard exhale. “Talk to Kyle, and then, we’ll regroup.”

Tweek lets out a laugh. “I’ve never seen you so interested in helping someone before.”

Craig pouts at him, which makes Tweek laugh again. “I help you, don’t I?”

“Yeah… What’s that about?” Tweek raises one eyebrow at him, a coy smile ghosting across his lips.

Craig, once again, is swarmed with butterflies. He parts his mouth to speak but has no idea what to say, or _how_ he wants to respond. His stomach shifts over and over again at Tweek’s lingering gaze. Craig has to look away to stop the cycle, yet his stomach still lingers with flapping butterflies anyway. “I can be helpful when I want to,” his voice is low as he scuts his shoe against the blue tape on the stage floor.  
  


“Yeah, I mean… Definitely can’t argue with that. You’re pretty much the reason I’m here, so…”

His heart stops at the admittance. He flicks his eyes up at Tweek. The blonde male wears a smile of admiration, his amber eyes aglow. “That was all you,” Craig says, the words as soft as the look Tweek gives him.

“Thanks. But I needed the push.”

Craig swallows. He wonders if _he_ needs the push. But, he is scared of the _push_. He avoids the _push_ like hell. “Well, I’m glad I could help.”

“Hopefully I’ll be able to return that help.”

“As I said before, you worry too much about returning favors.”

“I worry too much about everything.”

Craig can’t help but laugh at the honest statement. “That’s true.”

The conversation comes to an end once Ms. Prevost yells out, “all right, everyone, we are going to practice ACT I Scene 4.”

Craig’s stomach twists at the scene number. It’s the scene where Ned (Tweek) and Felix

(Bridon) first kiss. Usually, their director allows them to skip over the kissing, but today, she says, “I am thinking now that we have all the props ready, maybe we practice the kiss as well.”

Craig’s heart sinks into his stomach at the words. He usually is far from being transparent, but it’s physically impossible for him to remove his glower as he stares at the pair on stage. By this point, he has pretty much memorized the scene, and as the kiss grows nearer, his stomach conclaves.

As they approach the kiss, the director begins to coach them from her seat below the stage.

“Okay, _now, Tweek,_ honey, remember, you’re not expecting this kiss — you do not remember Felix, although, you feel _connected_ to him, nonetheless,” she shouts, every word dragging the knife across Craig’s chest further. “And Bridon, remember, your characters have made love prior — you remember this and are hurt that Ned doesn’t. You’re attracted to him, and you know he’s attracted to you. You’re confident, but also a little sad.”

Craig wants to look away as the two nod and shift closer together on stage, but it’s as if his eyes are paralyzed. He just stares upon the pair, tightening his jaw and curling his fingers into fists; _surely,_ causing crescent moons to form on his palms. He doesn’t care.

Bridon moves closer and makes the first move. Craig’s stomach clenches further upon the sight. It only makes it worse when Tweek visibly steps into the kiss as well. He feels physically ill. He looks away.

Clyde is next to him, but his eyes are focused on the scene. “Dude… I have to take a leak… I’ll be back,” he whispers to his friend.

Clyde nods at him, “I’ll tell you what you missed.”

Craig furrows his brow at his friend but doesn’t question him. They have been working on this play every day for three weeks now, he knows what happens _next._ He ignores him though, really, in no desire of questioning his stupidity.

He exits the auditorium and proceeds into the hallway. He doesn’t even _have_ to use the restroom. He just had to get out of there. He settles against the cool white bricks of the hallway wall and lets out a deep breath.

It is so _unfair_ that Bridon just gets to kiss Tweek like that, merely, for being the romantic interest in the play. He doesn’t have to go through this terrifying, horrific journey of self-acceptance just to _kiss_ him. Even if Bridon wasn’t gay, he would be able to kiss him because it’s just _acting._ He gets to skip past the self-deprivation and shame. He just gets to _kiss_ him, for no good reason, other than getting a role in the play.

It makes Craig ill as he thinks about it.

When he returns to the auditorium, he stays quiet the rest of the rehearsal.

XXXX

The next day, Chemistry arrives with Kyle.

Although Tweek constantly witnesses Kyle arguing with Cartman over Heidi, he doesn’t even hear him talk about her without the presence of Cartman. He supposes that is kind of odd, but he doesn’t think this will go anywhere, nonetheless. After this conservation, he will just able to tell Craig that he talked to Kyle about it.

If he wasn’t so in love with Craig, he probably would have just rejected to help altogether, but unfortunately, Craig has a complete hold on his heart; condemning him to say _yes_ to anything he asks of him. There is not much he wouldn’t do for him at this point (except hurting his friends, of course).

Like always, due to Kyle’s wide intelligence, they finish their experiment faster than anyone else. As they clean up, Tweek gathers the courage to ask, “how are things with Heidi?”

Kyle keeps his eyes on the lab table as he goes over it with a Clorox wipe. With an inhale, he says, “they’re okay.”

Tweek perks his eyebrow up at this. His words seem to be drenched with exhaustion. “Doesn’t sound like it... Is it because of Cartman?”

Kyle’s shoulders cave and he just lets the wipe fall from his hold. His face tightens at the mention of Cartman. “A little... He _is_ an asshole.” He inhales through his mouth, “but, like, I don’t know… sometimes… I just… I don’t know.”

“What?”

Kyle meets him in the eye. “I feel weird talking about this to Stan or Kenny… they are always _all_ over each other. Kenny’s been obsessed with tits since preschool, and Stan comments Kenny’s butt at least _once_ a day…”

Kenny admittedly does have a pretty good butt.

Kyle takes in a deep breath, his eyes flocking downward. “I-I,” he slightly jerks his shoulders and stutters, “I don’t know… that stuff doesn’t interest me though, like, I don’t think about sex… or even, like… _kissing,_ even.”

Tweek raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t relate. Every day, it seems like more and more thoughts of Craig’s _everything_ consumes him, and there is only one way to release it all.

“Do you think that’s weird?” Kyle’s eye connects to his.

“No! Not at all,” Tweek shakes his head immediately. “It’s fine, man… really, you shouldn’t feel ashamed of feeling that way.”

Kyle nods and puffs out a breath and his eyes flicker down.

“I mean, that — do you think you might be asexual?”

“I guess… yeah… maybe,” he bites his bottom lip. “I just feel like it’s so weird. I feel so … out of place.”

“You shouldn’t,” Tweek says. “Everyone has different preferences. It’s not _weird_ to be _anything._ Society is just full of a bunch of judgmental dicks.”

Kyle bursts into a laugh. “Yeah, that’s true,” Kyle shakes his head. “I just… I hope Stan and Kenny react the same.”

“I’m sure they will. They are your best friends, man.”

Kyle nods and grins at him. “Thanks, Tweek. I meant it when I said I wish you’d just replace Cartman in our group.”

Panic rises inside him. He thinks of the time in fourth grade where he was a part of their group for a few weeks. It was the worst few weeks of his life. He likes the group, but their lives are too chaotic for him. He forces out nervous laughter, “who could ever fill the hole of Cartman?”

Kyle laughs and nods, “that’s true… it’s a big ass hole to fill.”

  
Tweek laughs alongside him until Kyle replaces his laugh with a sigh. “I just feel bad about Heidi… I like her, but I know that she wants more than I can give her… Also, I feel like if I end it with her, she will just flock to Cartman,” his eyes shut and head shakes, “and that pisses me off because he sucks, and she deserves better.”

Anxiety bubbles in his chest as he says, “well, the reason I brought it, actually… Craig wants to set her up with Clyde. He wanted me to help, but I knew you kind of have a thing going on with her, so I told him I had to check in with you first about it.”

“Oh,” Kyle’s eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, hmm, I mean…” he shrugs. “It’s a way to get her away from Cartman, for sure,” he laughs, but it’s kind of sad. He sighs and looks down, “I do _like_ her, but, I can’t give her what she wants. She deserves someone who can,” he lifts his head to Tweek to smile. “And Clyde’s a lot better choice than Cartman.”

Tweek laughs and nods. “I think anyone is…” his laughter dies down with the statement. He eyes Kyle, “are you sure you would be okay with it? I mean… maybe Heidi wouldn’t care.”

Kyle sighs and shakes his head. “I think she would. She tries to… sext me, a lot… I just… don’t even know how to reply… it just makes me feel… uncomfortable, almost.”

Tweek bites his lip. “Hey, I wouldn’t know how to reply to a girl sexting me, either.”

Kyle laughs. He nods his head a couple of times, “honestly, I am a little sad about Heidi, but a little better too. It was really good to open up to someone about this,” Kyle says. “It’s been kind of hard holding it all in.”

This makes him think of Craig.

“Yeah, well, you can talk to me whenever about it.”

“Thanks,” a smile tugs upon the red-headed male’s face.

Tweek nods back.

A pause follows, and he worries that Kyle secretly hates him for bringing all this up.

“And I’m sure it’ll make Craig happy if you help him out on this…” Kyle grins at him.

He heats up at the accusation. “I mean, I — yeah, but, yeah,” he ducks his head down, feeling the hear to his cheeks.

Kyle laughs and Tweek sighs.

“Do you think I’m pathetic?”

“No, of course not!” Kyle reassures him. “And for the record, I don’t need a gaydar, or a Ph.D. in love to know that he’s into you, too.”

Tweek flushes at the words. The bell rings before he can dispute.

XXXX

Tweek meets Craig by his locker before rehearsal. Every interaction feels farther and farther from their almost-kiss; it almost being a week ago now, and nothing at all said. Tweek would almost believe it didn’t happen if the atmosphere between them didn’t change alongside it.

It feels like they are _closer_ now; not just physically, but emotionally, as well. It’s confusing as absolute fuck, and there is no way Tweek could measure it, except maybe from the physical closeness and increase in text conversation, but it feels like something has _shifted_.

Craig still seems very wary of any conversation though; fraying from any time alone to talk. He immediately starts to move towards the auditorium when Tweek reaches his locker, yet, stays close by him.

It’s fucking weird as hell, and Tweek is almost just ready to ask him, _do you like me?_

Craig has successfully dominated all conversations; making it _impossible_ for Tweek to be the chooser of the topic in person, and Tweek is _not_ bringing this shit up over text. He even asked him to hang out this previous weekend, which Craig said no to because of homework and work. Tweek very much _doubts_ that he didn’t have time, seeing as he saw him PS4, but he _did_ Snapchat him a picture of him at work (a selfie, _actually_ ) and a desk full of assignments.

Tweek would be more upset or hurt by the avoidance if Craig didn’t spend the whole weekend both texting and Snapchatting him. The signals are confusing, and somewhat, infuriating. He has no idea what is going on inside the other male’s brain, except that he wants to avoid any form of actual dialogue about what’s going on between them.

Sometimes he feels like the simple and _only_ answer is to just do what they _failed_ to do the other night; _kiss_ him.

Craig asks him about Kyle, and without telling him exactly _why,_ Tweek says he will help. Craig presses him on _what_ Kyle said, but Tweek keeps his secret safe, unsure if Kyle would like his information to be shared with others yet. Although Craig claims to _not care_ about their drama, he continues to ask about it.

Tweek attempts to shut him down with, “you’re such a gossip!” as they enter the auditorium doors.

Craig shrugs, “no, I just think they have illogical reasoning for everything, and I enjoy making fun of them for it.”

Tweek shakes his head and lets out a breathy laugh, turning his body to look at him. “You’re stupid. You got what you want. Be happy.”

Craig scowls at him and raises his middle finger, but his eyes tell a whole different story; gleaming and crinkling. Eventually, even his scowl twitches into a toothless smile, the whole façade gone. The butterflies in Tweek’s stomach jump, his shoulders actually _jerking_ from how cute the gesture is. Tweek’s entire chest fills with admiration as he bites on his bottom lip to compress his ever-growing grin.

“No,” he remarks.

Tweek huffs out a laugh and shakes his head. “You’re actually impossible.”

Craig lets his middle finger fall, and Tweek notices Craig’s gaze has changed in both direction and glimmer. The dark-haired male’s hazel eyes go cold and the beautiful curve of his smile morphs into another, this time _real,_ scowl.

Tweek follows his line of sight, his eyes landing on Bridon who walks over to them. Again, his chest inflates, a smile rising to his face. _Is Craig jealous?_ Tweek is surprised at the open scowl and easy-to-read expression. For once in his life, he feels like he actually can see what’s going on inside his head.

“Hey, Tweek,” Bridon greets with a warm smile. The brunette glances at Craig, and says, “Greg, right?”

“Craig,” the dark-haired-male corrects with a flat tone. For the first time, Tweek notices that his tone is different with him. Kenny claims it is like this all the time, but Tweek doesn’t really believe him. At this moment, though, it definitely is. Tweek bites down on his bottom lip to secure his laughter.

“Oh, shit, sorry, dude!” Bridon expresses, eyes wide. “My bad! I hope you don’t think I’m some prick who doesn’t appreciate stagehands.”

“You’re fine…” Craig says, eyes on the stage. “I am going to go find Clyde,” he says and walks away with nothing more than a glance at Tweek.

Tweek resists the urge to roll his eyes at both the obvious, dumb, jealousy, and fact that if Craig wanted to be with him, then he literally could be. He just has to _talk_ to him.

He exhales through his nose and pulls his hand through his blonde curls as he watches Craig hop onto the stage from afar.

“Something going on between you two?”

Tweek’s eyes bulge. He knows his face must be _beet_ red. He immediately shakes his head. “What?” He laughs. “No! He is … _straight_ ,” he doesn’t believe it, but he isn’t trying to get any rumors started. He knows how this school is.

“Oh,” Bridon nods. “That’s too bad. It seems like you like him.”

Tweek laughs again. “Ah, what? Nn, no I don’t.”

Bridon laughs. “You’re cute, Tweek. It sucks to have crushes on straight boys. I’ve been there.”

Tweek frowns and looks towards the stage again, briefly wondering how this is going to end. Will Craig continue to deny himself? Will he continue to just have a _crush_ on a _straight_ boy? His chest swells and for a completely different reason from just a few minutes prior.

He eyes the floor. There doesn’t seem much reason to deny it. “Yeah… it does.”

“It’s okay,” Bridon promises. “It happens to us all,” he laughs. “I think it’s all part of the gay experience.”

Tweek’s lips tug into a smile. He nods, “I suppose it is.”

Bridon requests that he practices lines with him for a less practiced scene, and Tweek says sure. They sit in two of the auditorium seats, and Tweek catches Craig staring at them three separate times in the ten minutes.

_It sucks being in love with closeted boys with terrible communication skills._

XXXX

During their rehearsal break, Craig, yet again, gravitates toward the blonde.

He opens with, “so, I talked to Clyde. Would you want to ask Heidi, if _she_ would want to get ice cream with all of us after school? Clyde got rejected like five times in the last forty-eight hours, and says he can’t handle another rejection... so.”

Tweek stares blankly.

He didn’t expect to _go_ on the date with Clyde and Heidi. Nor did he expect _Craig_ to be there as well… it almost appears as a _double-date,_ if he just nearly _squints_.

He hates himself because he can’t say _no, not until you talk to me, you fucking asshole,_ and instead says, “sure.”

“Thanks, you’re the best, Tweek.”

Tweek just smiles and nods, feeling like every nerve ending is going to quietly explode under his skin. “Anything for you,” Tweek says, his heart aching behind the truth of the words.

Before they are called back to rehearsal, Tweek nears Heidi and invites her for after rehearsal ice-cream with Craig and Clyde. Heidi gives him a curious look, eyebrows tilted inward. At first, he thinks she is going to question the motives, but then she says, “in November?”

Tweek smiles. He was so distracted by Craig, he didn’t even notice the strange pick for the activity. “I— don’t know… I didn’t plan the activity.”

Heidi giggles, and loops her arm around his. She rests her head on his shoulder, “boys are so dumb.”

The girls say this a lot to him. He finds it somewhat humorous considering he _is_ a boy, but he always agrees anyway.

“But yeah, I’ll come,” Heidi says.

Tweek is not sure how this is going to go, but he smiles anyway — happy to get some more time with Craig, even if it’s not the type of time he wants.

Xxx

After the end of the rehearsal, the crowd of four travel to Clyde’s car. Tweek walks close to Heidi through the parking lot; their arms looped together. However, he keeps his eyes set on Craig walking before him; his long legs making it incredibly and stupidly easy to stride forward in almost leaps.

He is lanky and slim; lacking in much muscle density, and Tweek wants so bad to feel it all.

Once they get to Clyde’s car, Craig offers Heidi the front seat, and Tweek is impressed with how strangely smooth he is about it, for trying to full-on _Parent Trap_ the pair. Craig climbs into the back first, and Tweek can’t help but stare at his ass as he does so.

He follows afterward, and with the passenger seatback to its normal position, Heidi takes her spot in the convertible.

The convertible is _small_ and compact; the pair in the back seat close enough to where their knees and calves touch. Tweek is sure the convertible is not _that small_ though where this touch is necessary. He looks at Craig, but Craig just stares forward, requesting Clyde to play some oldies.

Clyde starts playing _How’s It Going to Be_ by Third Eye Blind, and Craig seems to be unhappy with the choice because he says, “this isn’t an oldie?”

“Hell yeah, it’s an oldie,” Clyde argues.

“It’s the _90’s.”_

“That’s totally old… except you know, it isn’t, because it’s _timeless_.”

Heidi laughs at this and Tweek shakes his head.

“You’re a fucking moron,” Craig grabs ahold of the back of Clyde’s head seat. “Heidi, can you hand me the aux so I can play some _real_ oldies?”

_“Sure,”_ she laughs as she pulls the aux cord from Clyde’s phone, and hands it to Craig. After a brief silence during the transition, _You Make My Dreams (Come True)_ starts up, and Craig immediately starts bobbing his head up and down to the beat. Soon, he begins to shimmy his shoulders as well, and Tweek _completely_ loses it. He pulls his yellow sweatshirt over his nose and bursts into a fit of giggles.

The sweatshirt fails him in hiding his amusement though. Craig scowls again at him, but like before, his eyes completely give away that he is not at all mad. His scowl slowly loses to a smile. Tweek continues to giggle as he pulls his sweatshirt off his nose, “isn’t this from, like, the ’80s? It’s not much older than what Clyde played.”

“It’s from the _early_ ’80s,” Craig says. “Besides, everyone knows the best music is from the ’80s.”

“No way, man,” Tweek shakes his head. “The ’60s totally has the best music — It has Fleetwood Mac, Elton John, The Beatles… You can’t compete with that.”

“Guys, guys,” Clyde calls above the music. “This is why music’s just _timeless._ It’s all good. I don’t discriminate towards music-based decades, and you shouldn’t either.”

Heidi bursts into laughter, while Craig shakes his head and rolls his eyes. Tweek laughs, more so laughing at Craig rolling his eyes than Clyde’s joke. Craig looks over to him and when he laughs along; a mutual understanding stems between them; both laughing _at_ Clyde’s corniness, rather than _with_ him.

They arrive at the ice cream parlor, and Tweek rolls his eyes when Craig chooses _vanilla_ , out of all the thirty-one various flavors. Although, he figures he is just as basic by choosing coffee, something he consumes daily. Craig does not refrain from making fun of him for this fact, and in retaliation, Tweek says, “you literally got vanilla, dude.”

“Vanilla is good,”

“Coffee is better.”

“You don’t even like coffee when it tastes like that. You like it black.”

  
“It’s still _coffee_.”

“There is a reason vanilla is such a classic.”

“Because it’s what _boring_ people get,” Tweek smirks at him as they take a seat at one of the indoor tables. Heidi and Clyde still stick by the counter, as both got milkshakes, and that takes longer.

“When was the last time you even _had_ vanilla?”

Tweek brushes a curl behind his ear and shrugs with a lazy smile. “How should I know? I never get it.”

Craig rolls his eyes, but the smile attached to his lips doesn’t dare vacate. He cocks his head to the side, returning his gaze, and pushes the sugar cone out to him. “Try it.”

Tweek’s mouthparts as his eyes land on the vanilla cone. Something stirs inside him. Craig was just _licking_ that, and he wants him to do the same now? Then _lick_ it, _again,_ after he does? His heart palpitates.

“F-fine,” he murmurs, taking Craig’s cone. “But only if you try mine,” he pushes out the coffee-icecream sugar cone out to the dark-haired-male.

“Fine,” Craig does not seem to have the same internal struggle as him, which makes him feel like he doesn’t feel the same way. He frowns.

Tweek licks the vanilla ice-cream scoop, his gaze initially focused on the dessert. When he lifts his head back up, he notices that Craig’s facial expression has completely changed. His eyes have glossed over with what seems to be desire and his mouth hangs slightly ajar. Tweek nearly _loses_ it when Craig’s lip slides out to swipe the excess ice cream off his upper lip.

He gulps and averts his gaze in attempt to recover, but his heartbeat still races as he exchanges cones back with Craig again.

“T-that was better than I remember,” Tweek says, biting the inside of his cheek. He keeps his eyes pasted to the table-top and restlessly shifts in his seat; the image of _that_ face taking over his entire mind, along with the lick of his lips.

He shamefully feels his pants tighten.

Jesus Christ. What’s wrong with him? He is just _eating_ ice cream.

Clyde and Heidi eventually join them at the table, and as the tension eases, Tweek finally recovers the courage to look at Craig again.

He is _definitely_ going to keep that image of him saved for later.

Xxxx

Craig is impressed with Clyde’s ability to make Heidi laugh at his dumb, corny, awful jokes. He feels successful as he watches the two bond; priding himself on making an apparent good match of the pair. If Clyde has Heidi, then he will no longer have to hear him cry about being alone.

Although, he probably misses a lot that goes on between the pair because he is _so_ focused on the blonde across from him, especially when he watches him lick his ice-cream. It completely dissembles him that literally the visual Tweek eating his ice-cream is somehow _hotter_ than a girl _literally_ trying to get his flaccid dick up with her mouth.

He’s gay.

He’s _so_ gay.

And more than possibly in love with Tweek Tweak, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! :O


	24. anxiety

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tysm everyone for reading ilysm ty !!!!! and ty so much to husband jewboykahl and my wife ambercreek95 for helping me w this chapter! 💖😰 <3 hope u enjoy this chapter. i hate it. :)

“So, I know we are entering Thanksgiving break, but I want to ask everyone to practice their lines during our time off — it’s three weeks until opening week, and before we know it, it’s going to be here.”

Tweek sits in the audience with wide eyes; panic immediately rising in his chest like a tidal wave. _Three weeks_ — three weeks until he is on stage, in front of a crowd of strangers, and worse than strangers, his classmates. He suddenly is plagued with doubt and worries; the thought of messing up on stage completely blanketing over the director’s words.

He looks down and begins to unconsciously tear at his nail-beds; the panic invading his lungs as it becomes difficult to breathe. _Everyone is going to see how terrible he is. They are going to question how he even got the part. He is going to ruin the play because he's in almost every scene. The audience can’t avoid him, or vice-versa. Then, it will all be his fault; the director will hate him, along with the rest of the cast because he ruined the whole—_

His thoughts come to stop with a nudge to his lower rib cage. He turns his head to look at the culprit; meeting hazel eyes. 

“You okay?” The culprit whispers.

Tweek remembers to breathe now. He manages to nod with an intake of a breath. The corner of Craig’s mouth turns upright, and Tweek offers something of a somewhat smile back. 

The look he gives him eases his thoughts; the acknowledgment from Craig somewhat subduing. One of the worst parts of his anxiety is that he feels no one ever cares to check in on him about it; they are just so ready to call him crazy and move on. His parents, for example, just ignored him, never helping him with anything or listening.

The first-half rehearsal consists mostly of scenes between Ned (Tweek) and Ben (Cartman). While Cartman is a terrible person, who Tweek most certainly hates, he is one of the best actors the play has. This further fuels Tweek’s beliefs that he is a poor one, especially when their director says, “Cartman, wow, you just get better by the day… and Tweek, that was good, but you just seem a little less in-touch than usual. How about we run it again?”

She is right though. He _is_ less in-touch; his mind is not on Ned, and instead, Thanksgiving. He hates Thanksgiving. Not only is it an awful holiday that celebrates the mass slaughter of indigenous people, but it is a day reserved to spend with _family_. While his mother cooks Thanksgiving dinner, she also helps his father make copious amounts of their special brew for Black Friday shoppers. His parents usually head to the shop by 5 pm, and Tweek eats cold Turkey and dry dressing in his bedroom, by himself.

As he and Cartman start up the scene again, the dread of Thanksgiving still lurks, along with the added stress of _not-in-touch._ While he knows she was probably just trying to help, it just further feeds the current of his endless anxious thoughts; the dam only ever-so-strong from it just breaks altogether.

It only makes it worse when the director says, "Tweek, honey, how bout you just take a 5?"

Tweek ducks his head down as he darts off the stage and out of the auditorium. He knows that Asshole Cartman is satisfied right now. He lives for others' torment.

He already knows taking 5 is not going to do anything as he pushes through the auditorium doors open and heads into the hallway. He will just fall deeper into his rabbit hole of anxiety. If she thinks he is _out-of-touch_ now, just wait 5 more minutes, he'll be even further down the spiral.

He takes in a deep breath and leans against the brick hallway wall; eyes on the bright and blinding ceiling lights. He crosses his arms over his body. Usually, acting feels like his escape. It’s one of the only few things that separates him from his mental illness and familial qualms, but today, anxiety has won, and he is just his latest victim.

“Tweek?”

Tweek flicks his eyes to the familiar, nasally voice. He swallows, and drops his head down, further tightening the grip around his body. Even though Craig has known him for a long time, and is well aware of his demons, he feels the need to hide them, especially now. _It’s even more reason for Craig to not want to be with him — or think it’s even worth being with him. Hell, maybe Craig will be gay with someone else; maybe he will come out, but not to be with Tweek. Maybe that almost-kiss was just a realization for Craig, and he’ll be with someone else (or he will just ignore it completely.) Why would Craig want him? He is just a fucking, terrible mess — sometimes he feels like he will just completely unravel until he is no longer a person. He isn't entirely sure that hasn't already happened._

Craig props his shoulder against the wall and stares at him. 

Tweek doesn’t state back, but he does talk.

“I can’t do this, I don’t know why I thought I was ever capable. I’m a fucking mess, and I can’t keep control of my anxiety long enough to just do a ten-minute scene,” the words fall out before he can stop them. “Fucking Cartman is doing better than I am. Goddamn Eric Cartman.”

He doesn’t look at Craig but he can feel the sad hazel gaze. 

“You’re doing great."

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better. Why do you even bother with me? I’m just — I’m going to let everyone down, including you," he pours out, eyes on the floor.

Tweek waits for a response but doesn’t hear anything, so continues to let the avalanche of his worries crush the boy beside him. “I shouldn’t have ever tried out! I should have known that I would be too focused on my own, stupid thoughts to ever fucking be in this goddamn play. I can’t just pretend to be someone on stage; someone confident, and inspiring, and smart.”

“You’re all those things though…” Craig finally says. Tweek peers over to him with half-lid amber eyes. "I mean, you could be a little more confident, but … I think so could a lot of people.”

Craig steps in front of him and pulls his hand out his hair, which Tweek didn't even realize he was tugging on until now. It surprises him when Craig doesn’t drop his hand, and instead, runs his thumb over his palm, creating mass explosions in his nerve endings.

Tweek stares blankly and blinks. He opens his mouth to ask the question that’s been haunting his mind for the last week, but then, Craig interrupts in the softest tone he has ever heard from the male. “Your hands are really soft," he grazes his fingers over Tweek's knuckles, and back of his hand. 

Tweek’s mouth hangs open; his heart racing. He eyes their interlocked hands; the palpitations only quickening. “T-thanks,” Tweek sputters. “I use hand lotion,” he clicks amber to hazel. The corners of the blonde's mouth angle into a smile, a breathy laugh escaping.

Craig cracks into a smile as well; a sound similar to his own coming out of his mouth. “Maybe you could share some sometime.”

Tweek’s settles his up-turned lips together in a closed smile, admiring the male in front of him and the slight red in his cheeks. “I suppose I could.”

The sound of the auditorium doors shifting open startles both of them; Craig immediately turning bright red and jumping away.

“Hey,” Nichole says, “uh, sorry, but — Ms. P wants everyone in the auditorium.”

“Okay, cool.” 

“Sounds good,” Craig says, talking to the floor tiles instead of Nichole.

“Okay… well, see you guys soon, then!” The girl says before she retreats.

They head back into the auditorium in silence; Tweek wondering if he kissed him right now, what would have happened?

..

That night, due to his impending anxiety towards the play, Thanksgiving, Craig, and life in general, Tweek asks if Kenny wants to come over to smoke weed. His parents can’t say shit about him smoking in the house because they sell literal meth. Although they probably wouldn't say anything to begin with; they hardly acknowledge his existence, at all.

After they get high, they head to the kitchen. Even though his parents are the weirdest fucking people ever; his mother, for some reason, constantly cooks home-cooked meals like a ‘50’s housewife. It's probably his father's doing; demanding wholesome, organic meals to appease whatever fantasy he's created in his head of what life is like.

Even though his mother is insane, she does cook well.

“Man, this is the best meal I’ve had in weeks,” Kenny says as they sit at his dining room table eating it. Tweek doesn’t know why they sat there — Kenny said he wanted to. Tweek does not particularly like the dining room table; it holds too many memories of awkward dinners with his parents.

“You sure there isn’t meth in this?” Kenny asks.

Tweek glares at his friend, which is enough for Kenny to raise his hands in defeat. “Too far — no meth jokes. Sorry. Meth jokes are the only thing that helps me cope with my crack-head parents.”

“It’s fine. I suppose if anyone is going to make them; I’m glad it’s you.”

“See, right? I honestly advise you try it sometime.”

Tweek shakes his head; the annoyance morphing into amusement as a smile stretches to his face. 

“So… what are you doing tomorrow?”

_Thanksgiving_.

“I don’t know. My parents asked me to help them with their goddamn brews. Like I genuinely think they think I might be interested." Tweek says. “They are fucking delusional.”

“How bout you come to Stan’s with Karen and me?”

Tweek blinks at his friend. “Uh…. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”

“Oh, dude, you wouldn’t be at all! Sharon loves the extra company. Shelly isn’t coming home from college this year, so there is even an extra seat:”

Tweek’s gapes. “I feel like Stan won’t want me there.”

“Dude, what? Stan is so chill; he just wants everyone to have a good time and be included. If he was the type of person to not want you there, I wouldn’t be with him.”

“I don’t know,” Tweek eyes the food in front of him. Even high, he can feel the anxiety spike inside him. 

“Just come. It will be fun; I promise. We always eat a shitload, then watch football, and end the night by watching _Home Alone.”_

Tweek bites the inside of his lip. _It does sound better than what he had planned…_

“Alright, only if Stan and his mom are okay with it, though.”

“Oh, baby, they are fine with it, I promise," Kenny pats the top of his hand; the same one Craig held earlier. It is not _nearly_ the same.

..

The next morning, Kenny meets him at his house at noon to walk with him to Stan’s. Kenny carries a homemade pumpkin pie that he and Karen made, and Karen holds a phone to her ear. She grins and waves at him, saying, “hi, Tweek!” but paces ahead of them, phone conversation out of reach.

The air is cool, late November frosting over South Park with light snow and grey skies. It’s not too bad though. Tweek has always enjoyed the chill; for some reason it making him feel more alive. 

Karen lets out a loud laugh in front of them, which results in laughter from the two males as well. Tweek lands his eyes on her. She wears the orange parka that Kenny used to wear daily, her light brown hair coming down to her shoulders, the hood off, unlike how Kenny used to wear it.

“Who is she on the phone with?” Tweek asks.

“Her girlfriend.”

“Karen has a girlfriend?”

“She may as well. Tucker’s family is so fucking gay, dude.”

Tweek’s eyes go wide.

“Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if you married Craig, and Karen married Tricia? I think that would make us related, right?”

Tweek eyes the sidewalk, hands in his trench coat pockets. He lets out a breathy round of laughter. “I think you’re, like, a million steps ahead.”

“But you’re not denying it.”

Tweek’s laughter continues in breathy huffs as he brings his head up to eye Karen. For some reason, he could see Tricia being into girls, along with Karen. 

“I feel bad for Karen if what you’re saying has any semblance of truth to it.”

“Oh it does,” Kenny says. “Also, I’ll beat the shit out of Craig if his sister hurts my sister.”

Tweek laughs again. “Would that be Craig's fault though?”

“Dude, I get you’re in love with him, and everything, but come on, can’t you just pretend to be on my side?”

Tweek just hums as he looks to the mountains in front of them. He doesn't bother denying it. There is no point.

“You’re not denying that either.”

Tweek takes in a deep breath. “No, I’m not, as in yeah… I am. I — I think I am... In love with him.”

“Woah," Kenny says. “Well, he is pretty hot. I get it.”

Tweek huffs out a dramatic sigh, frowning at the blonde beside him. “He is _really_ hot. Like... it's annoying..." Tweek's voice carries off with a huff, eyes casting to the sidewalk. 

“Hot and frustrated, most likely.”

Tweek giggles at the joke, but as thoughts of the raven-haired male slip deeper into the crescents of his mind, a frown forms. “Something happened… something is happening, I think.”

“Oh? And you didn’t tell me? Tweek, come on, you know I live for this gay-ass shit!"

Tweek breaks into a smile again for a moment. His shoulders rise with his inhale. “We almost kissed.”

“Oh, shit, gay, dude!”

“But, like, I’ve tried to talk to him multiple times about it, and every time, he weasels out of it.”

“Sounds like Craig.”

Tweek groans. “I know. I should have expected this… it’s just, like, I don’t know — I think… he might, you know, I don’t know...” He bows him down into his chest. He fears suggesting that Craig likes him. What if he doesn’t, and he just sounds like some huge idiot? He doesn't want to sound too conceited, or stupid. 

“Is completely in love with you as well?” Kenny offers, peering over to the other blonde, a smirk evident on his face. “Yeah, I think so too.”

Tweek shifts his head side to side, “no… I —,” he shakes his head more aggressively. “There is no way.”

“Why?”

“Why would he be in love with me? I am just a huge fucking mess.”

“Craig is a fucking mess, too, dude. Everyone's a mess, and if they say they ain't; they're fucking lying."

Tweek runs his hands through his hair. He thinks of yesterday in the hall. He sucks in a breath. “Yesterday, after Ms. P told me to take a break… Craig followed me into the hall,” he pauses, “and was, like, super nice and sweet, and then, _literally_ , held my hand...”

“Tweek, do I even have to say it?"

“I know, okay? It was gay… but like,” he shakes his head. “I don’t know. It’s not like I can just kiss him at school, and I feel like he doesn’t want to be with me alone! I asked him to hang out this past weekend, and he just gave me a bunch of BS about work and school.”

“I can trap him for you? I have a ton of live traps at home. Maybe we could connect them all and make a Craig trap."

Tweek barks out in laughter. “That’d be something to see, actually.”

“I’ll get on it… but in the meantime, I don’t know, what if I set you guys up like that one time we got high in the woods?”

“Set up?”

“Yeah. I mean, the shit about my parents was true, and I did go to Stan’s, but,” he shrugs. “I mean there was a reason I didn’t tell Craig that you were coming.”

“You also didn’t tell me Craig was with you…”

“Exactly… _set up_.”

Tweek inhales sharply. “Thanks, but I kind of rather not trap him into having a conversation with me.”

“Oh, Tweek,” Kenny chuckles and places a hand on his shoulder. “You innocent angel. That’s how relationships work, hon.”

Tweek eyes him, an eyebrow raised and Kenny lets go.

“No one likes having difficult conversations, but they’re necessary.”

Tweek huffs out a breath. He knows that, but Craig doesn’t or at least chooses to ignore it.

…

Craig wakes up Friday morning from a FaceTime request from Clyde. He notices that Clyde has attempted to call him three times already, which he must’ve been in deep slumber for.

He begrudgingly answers, eyeing his screen through the slits of his eyelids.

“CRAIG!” His friends’ eyebrows shoot up, “dude, finally! Guess what!”

“You‘ve finally signed up with Apple to become the world's most annoying alarm clock?”

“Nope,” Clyde says, unfazed. “No. My dad is visiting my grandma tonight in Fort Collins, and won’t be back until late Saturday. I told him that I had homework so he let me stay home! I was thinking we have some people over; get some beer and just fucking own the night, bro.”

Craig cringes at the statement. “Like, what, a party?”

“You think I should throw one?”

“No,” Craig closes his eyes in frustration, rubbing the side of his face and feeling the light stubble that’s formed over the last couple of days of not shaving. “What you stated was a party.”

“Is it? What if I only have a few people over?”

“What’s a few?”

“Just some people from school, I don’t know. But you’ll be there, right? I just wanted to run it past you first.”

“... why?”

“Because you're my best friend, dude! Okay, well if you’re down, then I’ll start inviting people.”

Craig huffs out a breath; not remembering when he agreed, but says, “um, okay. I would keep it under control though… like don’t be stupid, Clyde.”

“When am I ever stupid?”

Craig squints at his friend over the phone screen. “Is that a _real_ question?”

“Whatever. I’ll give you the details later. Byeeeee!”

The phone screen goes back and Craig rolls over onto his back, staring at the ceiling. As most of his mornings always start, he thinks of Tweek.

He mulls it over for a moment before bringing his phone in front of his face. His most recent messages are from Clyde, but the ones below are from Tweek.

The text sent to him from Tweek was a simple _Goodnight_ with a smiley emoji attached. He stares at the conversation screen a long time before he even attempts to send something.

Finally, after nearly five minutes, he types out:

**CRAIG:** hey, Clyde is having a get-together that's most likely a party tonight… want to come?

It takes Tweek exactly two minutes to answer, he notices, as he does not look away from his phone screen the whole time he waits. Craig keeps his eyes on the messages the whole time; eyeing the bubble.

**TWEEK:** funny, I just got a message from Clyde too about that. As long as it’s not too wild, I’ll come!

Craig considers asking if he wants to go together, but the question somehow holds more weight than he is willing to let it hold.

So, instead, he says:

**CRAIG:** cool, I’ll see you there

…

Around 7 pm, he heads to Clyde’s. Jimmy is already present; preparing bowls of chips and pulling bottles of rum and vodka out of Clyde’s ( _father's_ ) freezer. He watches as the two boys dump the liquor contents into a huge punch bowl, and then refill the bottles back up with tap-water, in a mediocre attempt of stealing Clyde's father's alcohol. Craig seems to be the only one to notice the fault in the plan.

“Clyde, you know that's going to freeze now…”

“No, dude, it totally won’t, I’ve done it before.” 

“With that much?”

“A little less, but close enough.” 

Craig rolls his eyes.

His friend is such a dumbass.

People begin to show up around 8 pm, including Token, Wendy, Nichole, Bebe, and Hedi. Clyde and Heidi hit it off the other day; the two have been texting since the ice cream hangout, and immediately gravitate towards each other once she arrives.

As they parade inside, he catches his eyes with Nichole.

She eyes him with the same look she did the other day when she caught him with Tweek. He doesn’t know whether to feel panic or relief. He kind of actually wants to talk to her; seemingly that she is someone who definitely won’t be annoying about it, like Kenny; or someone who has no goddamn clue what they are talking about, like Clyde.

For now, he ignores Nichole though, and fishes his phone out of his pocket. It's been a half-hour and Tweek still hasn't answered him. He asked what time he is coming. 

It’s a literal half-hour. He went hours without responding in the past, but he never understood the desperation of wanting someone to respond to your text until now.

He spends the next half-hour strictly thinking about Tweek as his phone continues to remain silent. A couple more people show up now, including, Stan, Kenny, Kyle, and Cartman. He was half-expecting Tweek to show up with them, but… he supposes Tweek hangs around a lot of people; he could show up with anyone, or alone, for that matter.

As more people pile in, he just feels lonelier, his sporadic glances at his phone almost forming into a _constant_ longing stare now. He sits on the living room couch, alone, watching a card game from after. 

Just as he is about to look at his phone for the millionth time, the couch’s weight shifts in weight. He glances up and sees Nichole. She gives him a small greeting and a smile, and he does the same, pushing the phone away for now.

“You seem sad.”

“I always seem like this.”

“No, usually you seem bored.”

“Hmm,” Craig nods. “Duly noted.”

A noise interrupts the card game. “ _Fuck you, Kyle! We are supposed to be best friends, how could you play a Draw 4 card on me?”_ Stan yells.

“Is it because Tweek isn’t here?”

His heart stops in his chest. He shifts his eyes to her at the question. He can't even open his mouth, let alone get a word out at the accusation.

She sets a hand on his knee. “Craig it’s okay. Really. You don’t even have to say it if you don't want to.”

Craig swallows, eyes fluttering away to the crowd of the party. Without even realizing it, the crowd's grown larger; Jimmy, Red, and Timmy, all near the kitchen, and Kevin Stoley, Jason White, and Millie Thompson (his 9th-grade girlfriend he lost his virginity to) all near the entrance.

His eyes fall on Millie a moment. He feels like he should have some emotional connection to the person he lost his virginity to, but instead, he just feels _nothing_ towards her; the closest emotion only _regret_.

“How did you know?” he finally asks, voice low.

“Because you look at Tweek the same way I look at Bebe, hon.”

The smile on her face brings him ease. Even her words, somewhat, give him ease. He feels … validated, almost. He eyes his lap with a somewhat smile tugged on his lips, now, “I guess, then… technically you’re the first I’ve come out to I guess.”

Arms fall around him, tugging him sideways. He lets out a huffy breath, but grins; the one 12 oz of beer in his system making him a little more tolerable to being touched. Also... it's nice, even if he refuses to admit it.

He never knows what to do when people give him side hugs; not that he’s had a ton of them, but he never knows what to do with his arms. So, in a last-ditch effort to not be awkward about it, he forgets his arms and just leans into it, receiving a kiss on the cheek from Nichole that causes him to laugh and instantly pull back.

“Okay, that’s enough. I can only accept physical affection so many times a night," he rubs the spot where she planted the kiss on his cheek.

Nichole grins. “Yeah, you say that with me…. But I think with a certain someone else you wouldn’t mind it as much.”

He blushes and looks down. 

This feels good. It feels weird and makes his stomach toss and tumble like a pinball machine, but it’s _good_. It is a relief. It finally feels like he is living outside his head; like someone knows him; his darkest secret.

“When did you know?” He asks.

She bites her bottom lip, but the smile still wins. “The Bonfire.”

He raises his eyebrows. “What? I didn’t even know them.”

She cocks her head to the side, eyes glimmering with playfulness. “Come on. Really? You stared at him, like, all night.” She barks at a laugh, eyebrows closed in together. "I don't believe that at all."

He flushes. Maybe she is right. Maybe he’s known he’s had these feelings for Tweek all along. “I guess I just chose to ignore it.”

“Well, don’t any more! Text him!”

“I already did like an hour ago and he didn’t answer.”

She giggles and covers her mouth. “Oh my god,” she pouts. “You’re so dramatic. Text him again!”

He holds his middle finger up to her. “I’m not dramatic. I just… I don’t want to look desperate.”

“That does not mean you look desperate.”

Although Craig begs to differ, he pulls his phone from his pocket anyway and sends him a double-text.

He sighs and presses his head against the back of the couch; his eyes landing on the ceiling. “If he still ignores me, you’re going to have to admit I’m right and also take back —,”

_Ding_

Nichole immediately bursts into laughter as Craig lurches forward to look at his phone screen. His eyes go wide. Tweek. He responded.

**TWEEK:** Craig I’m sssooooo sorry, I have been trying to leave my house for the past 30 mins but I just have so much anxiety today, and idk I just am being really dumb!!!!!! I’m sorry

**TWEEK:** I don't think i'm going to come. Pls don't hate me

**TWEEK:** I did want to hangout with you, just idk, i'm sorry!

Craig holds his phone up to his chest and inhales deeply. Nichole pries over and succeeds in trying to read what it says.

"Aw, poor Tweek. You should go over there."

Craig eyes her, "he didn't invite me over?"

"Oh my God," she shakes her head. "So? He said he wanted to hang out with you."

Craig groans. He doesn't like when people out-logic him. He sinks into the couch. "I don't know... I just..." he drops his phone into his lap. "I feel like it's probably for the best if I don't."

"The best for who? Certainly not the best for you! Or Tweek."

Craig frowns but keeps his mouth pressed shut and eyes on the stupid card game. It seems they have begun a new round. He crosses his arms over his chest.

"Just go. Even if it's... just as a friend. He seems like he could certainly use one right now," she squeezes his shoulder with a tight, closed smile.

Knowing she is right, he picks his phone back up and begins to type.

**CRAIG:** It's okay. You're not dumb. I don't hate you. Do you want me to come over? 

It only makes him more nervous with Nichole watching, but as butterflies take over his stomach, he adds:

**CRAIG:** I wanted to hang out with you too.

His heart races as he sends the text; not because he doesn't think Tweek wants to hang out with him, but because of what happened the last time they hung out alone; sitting on the park swings, the feeling of Tweek's breath on him, the magnetic pull to his lips.

He gulps.

His phone goes off a moment later.

**TWEEK:** sure, but you don't have to!! i'm fine. seriously. have fun!

He feels Nichole staring at him as he writes back.

**CRAIG:** i'm omw

Nichole smiles at him. "Well, you better get going, then."


	25. love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO TY ALL SO MUCH,,,, I need to reply to all the reviews but I wanted to get this posted 💕 ty I love u

He feels unusually nervous as he knocks on the front door of the Tweak residence. He shifts on the balls of his feet, pulling his navy beanie farther down his forehead. His eyebrows perk up at the sound of muffled voices behind the closed door. With a rustle of some more noise, the door swings open; Tweek’s mother and father standing behind the glass shield.

Richard Tweek quickly extends the glass door open as well and says, “come in Craig! Come in!”

Craig eerily enters; suddenly wishing he shot Tweek a text before he got here. His parents are fucking bizarre and always make him feel on edge.

“We haven’t seen you in a while, Craig,” Tweek’s mother says in a somewhat _less_ creepy way; but the lack of her creepy tone is replaced with the wild look in her wide, frantic eyes. 

“Oh, yeah,” Craig brings his gloved hand out of his pocket and scratches his neck. “It has.”

“You should stop by the shop more often,” Richard Tweek says. It does not surprise him that instead of talking about their son, who he is here for, Richard brings up their coffee shop. “We have a new brew, grounded from organic, and _fresh_ beans, unlike all those other corporations… See, at Tweak Bros. we put _love_ into our brew; when you drink _our_ coffee, it’ll feel like you’re cozied up with the love of your life in front of a fireplace.”

“Yeah… I have no idea what the fuck you just said. I’m going to Tweek’s room.”

Tweek’s father heartedly laughs, placing a hand on his stomach, which honestly somehow makes it worse. He squints at him as he says, “kids these days are so funny, aren’t they, Helen?” he looks back at his wife.

Helen Tweak holds her hands together in front of her waist; holding a wide grin. “Not like how we acted, that’s for sure.”

Just as he is about to ignore them and stride forward to the staircase; Tweek appears at the top of the steps, eyebrows tugged close together, and eyes narrowed. He glares at his parents, “can you guys ever not be fucking weird!?”

Again, Richard Tweek just _laughs,_ as if he is entirely on the _inside_ of the joke, which wasn’t even actually a joke, to begin with. 

As he stares at Tweek’s father with a look of bewilderment, Tweek cascades down the steps and grabs his wrist to tug him up the staircase. Craig is incredibly sad that his jacket blocks Tweek’s skin from being on his. He’s never had such negative feelings toward fabric until now.

When they enter his room, Tweek lets go, which is disappointing but expected.

“Sorry about that.”

Craig shakes his head once, a crack to his straight line; the presence of Tweek alone making it impossible not to smile, especially with the outfit sporting. He wears light-denim rolled-up jeans, with a dark belt around his waist, and a yellow psychedelic designed, t-shirt that reads _nature backs_ over the chest _._ As if it wasn’t already enough, a mostly green, red-striped bomber jacket hangs over his shoulders as well. Craig, once again, feels insufficient in his NASA hoodie and dark-denim jeans. He shrugs his jacket off as he watches Tweek pick up random shit left around his room, including an abundance of to-go coffee cups.

“I can’t believe you came,” Tweek says, picking up another coffee cup to shove into his overflowing garbage bin in his room. Tweek struggles with making the new addition to the garbage bin stay put; it continuously falling over. It’s like a game of Tetris, trying to find the exact spot where the coffee cup will fit. Tweek _pouts_ as he struggles to win the game, and it makes Craig’s heart _melt._ He can’t even bring himself to respond to Tweek’s statement; too paralyzed by the image of Tweek pouting. He has never seen a cuter thing in his whole life, he decides. _Sorry, Stripe._

Tweek huffs out a breath and gives up as the cup just tumbles once again to the side of the garbage bin. “You didn’t have to. I mean. I bet you were having fun.”

Tweek’s gaze finally reaches him for what seems like the _first_ time since he’s gotten here. A smile produces on his face despite himself due to this. “Do I seem like a partier to you? I was looking for an excuse to get out the second I got there, so I owe you one.”

Tweek shoots a smile back, “well… that makes me feel a little less sane then, I guess, I’m not the only one who doesn’t want to spend their Friday night at home instead of a high school party….” 

Tweek takes a seat on his twin bed, back to the wall. Craig takes the space beside him as an open invitation to sit next to him. 

“Far from it,” he says, sitting down next to the blond, and slipping his hands into his sweatshirt’s pocket. He watches as Tweek fiddles with the zipper of his bomber jacket; the corners of his lips tipping down. It’s not at all as cute as the pout from before. “So… what’s going on?”

Tweek shrugs, inhaling deeply, eyes still on the zipper. Tweek’s red and worn nail beds do not go unnoticed as Craig shifts his eyes to his slender hands. “I don’t know … it’s just been a rough couple of days, I guess… The holidays are always worse, for some reason.”

“What about them?”

Tweek huffs out a breath. “I don’t know — it’s just a reminder that my parents are the way they are, I guess,” he lets out a breathy laugh and picks his head to look at the male next to him. His expression softens as he does so. “I went to Stan’s yesterday for Thanksgiving, and it was great… but like, I don’t know… when I came home to this empty house after… it just felt _worse_ in a way?”

Craig nods, even though he doesn’t get it. His dad is homophobic, and his family rarely effectively communicates or provides affection, but he still sat down for an incredibly awkward family dinner yesterday. 

“And like, that’s not even the only thing that’s going through my head right now — it’s the play, too, and this party…” he drops his gaze to his lap again. He fidgets with his hands instead of his zipper now. “I just kept thinking, like, what if the cops come? And then, my parents have to pick up? And they murder me because they see that as a bad publicity for their stupid coffee shop? And not only that, but it’s like a citation for being around alcohol when we are minors!” Tweek speaks hastily, but Craig does his best to keep up. “It’s just too much pressure, man,” Tweek shakes his head. “And everyone is there and expecting me to just act normal when this is all going on in my head? It just doesn’t seem right.”

“Tweek,” Craig sets a hand on his knee, making Tweek’s eyes immediately dart to his. His heart jumps at the contact as well. “It’s fine, it’s… perfectly normal not to go. And knowing Clyde, that type of shit would happen, so you’re probably smart to not go.” He says. “You’re smarter than a lot of the dumb asses in our grade.”

Tweek’s lips pull into a delicate smile. Craig doesn’t move his hand yet, even though his statement is finished. Tweek considers reaching for it. “I did want to hang out with you though.”

Craig’s hand shifts, but it remains; his fingers playing on top of his kneecap as if he were a piano. There is no smile when he says, “I wanted that too,” but he delivers it in a low, meaningful, tone as if trying to convey the truth to the statement.

Tweek’s lips rise into a smile mindlessly; the words heavy on his heart. He feels incredibly anxious, giddy, and courageous all at once. “I’m surprised you came over,” he makes a quiet observation.

“I thought we been over this? Parties aren’t my thing.”

“ _No_ ,” Tweek’s heart stops, thinking of where this could go. “I mean I’m not surprised you left the party… I’m _surprised_ you came over.”

Craig just stares at him; his expression mostly unchanging, but a slight furrow to his brow forming. Tweek licks his lips and eyes the hand still on his knee cap. It gives him hope to draw from. “I feel like you’ve been kind of avoiding me since… that one night at the park,” Tweek adds.

Tweek is especially surprised when not only does Craig’s hand stay _put_ , but he begins to rub his kneecap with the pads of his fingertips instead of tapping. It causes intense blush to form on his cheeks. He is glad Craig looks away because he is positive he is red all over. He looks down at Craig’s hand over his knee; his finger pads moving in circles.

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” Craig says in such quiet, mute, and innocent words that Tweek nearly just lets it go.

“I beg to differ,” he makes sure to keep his eyes downcast as he settles his hand against Craig’s, their pinkies pressed next to each other. “You’ve been avoiding any alone time with me.”

“That’s not true. We’ve had plenty of moments alone together.”

Tweek isn’t focused on the words as he curls two of his fingers over Craig’s. His heartbeat goes frantic as he does so; afraid Craig will pull away. He doesn’t, though, and instead curls his fingers around Tweek’s own. It brings him back to the time they spent on his backyard lawn at the beginning of high-school with their pinkies interlocked. 

“Well, you pretty much controlled the conversation…”

“I didn’t know I was that controlling…”

Tweek’s heartbeat quickens as more of Craig’s fingers entwine with his. Tweek takes the final step to enclose their hands fully together. He never wants to let go. 

Craig thinks over the same thoughts; what could have come from the time in Tweek’s backyard, if they had only intertwined more fingers… if only his dad did not call the other day. Would he be happier? He sure as hell feels a lot happier right now — the happiest he’s felt since childhood.

“Stop playing dumb,” Tweek presses his thumb against the other male’s palm further to ensue his point, making Craig suppress a smile. 

“Okay, you’re… right… I have been. I’m sorry. I’m not the best at conversation… and I wouldn’t even know where to start with … what happened the other night.”

Tweek inhales deeply. He eyes Craig who keeps his gaze on their interlocked hands. “Well… maybe I can just start the conversation for you.”

Craig turns his head and lifts his eyes at Tweek. Craig could stare at him for hours. Suddenly he feels less entranced by space and more by what’s on earth in front of him. Tweek is incomparable. His amber eyes and wavy blonde hair are simply an out-of-this-world combination; the moon and stars in no comparison.

“Okay, that might help.” He dares to whisper.

Tweek stares a moment, his throat going dry. His heartbeat stammers, “Do you want to kiss me?”

He searches the blonde’s face, his heart nearly breaking his rib cage with how much it leaps at the question. “Yes,” he breathes, inching closer to the other male. He stares at him, begging he make the final stride forward, and the blonde obliges. Tweek leans forward, halting right at the edge of the other male’s face. His heartbeat accelerates as the tip of his nose brushes against the side of Craig’s. He shuts his eyes and wanes the space between them, pressing his mouth to Craig’s.

Tweek’s heart nearly bursts at the contact. He has imagined this happening so many times; always sure it would forever just be a dream or a fantasy. He almost doesn’t believe it’s real now. To assure himself further, he places the palm of his hand against Craig’s cheek. Light stubble greets him, along with the parting of Craig’s lips as he pulls and tugs against his own; the kiss deepening and growing ever so gently.

Craig has never felt such an urgency to deepen a kiss. It takes everything inside him to match Tweek’s slow pace, but lucky for him, it seems Tweek struggling as well with the slow pace. The blonde quickens the pace; the tip of his tongue barely brushing the inner flesh of his bottom lip. 

Unable to take it anymore, Craig reaches his hands into the blonde’s curls and tugs him to come closer; the increased proximity allotting each male to part their lips farther. The kiss deepens as their tongues slide and run over each other. Craig’s racing heartbeat is over-shadowed by the intense pit in his stomach and tightness in his jeans, but mostly by the grand yearning, he has to kiss Tweek forever. He’s overcome with love and desire; all the walls built around his heart crumbling down. 

The dark-haired male pulls his lips away, in desperate need of oxygen and a way to subdue the tightness in his jeans, but mostly because he is completely and hopelessly in love with Tweek. He craves to live in this moment forever as he flutters his eyes open and gazes into the softest, most beautiful eyes he’s ever seen.

They both breathe heavily against one another, Tweek’s breath once again, ghosting his cheek.

A smile spreads across Tweek’s face first, and then Craig’s.

Tweek still cradles the other male’s cheek; Craig’s fingers still tousled in his hair. The blonde runs his hand against the other man’s stubble, admiring him in intense awe. “I can’t believe this is real.”

“Me neither:”

“I have wanted this for so long…” Tweek confesses in a quiet and raspy tone. 

Craig sucks in a breath. “Me too…,” he swallows. “Even if I… didn’t realize I did at first.”

Tweek’s lips twitch into a far wider grin, his eyes crinkling. Craig decides _this_ beats the pout as the cutest thing he has ever seen, but not by much.

“I’ve loved you for so long…” Tweek confesses, unable to hold it in anymore.

At this, Craig’s grin exceeds in intensity; his eyes crinkling, but also a short, breathy giggle escapes his lips. “I’ve loved you too,” he says, the relief the words giving him making him feel like he could float past the moon. He cups Tweek’s face in his hands: “I think … I have for… a long time.”

Tweek bites down on his grin, placing his other hand onto Craig’s arm, desperate to touch him all over, but settling for the upper body for now. 

“I’m sorry I made you wait so long…” Craig says, the smile on his face slightly falling.

Tweek moves closer; unable to hold himself back from embracing him. He wraps his arms around the male, and Craig follows in the same movements. He has never felt more safe and warm in his whole life. “It’s okay,” Tweek murmurs, “you were definitely worth the wait.”

Craig grins once again and places a kiss on top of Tweek’s head, furthering the warmth and safety he feels deep inside him. “I love you,” he says again.

Tweek pulls away from the embrace and faces him again with the most immaculate smile anyone’s ever answered with. “I love you,” Tweek affirms before leaning forward to kiss him again. Craig eagerly responds to the kiss — the slow pace from before replaced with immediate fiery and passionate.

Craig’s heart nearly stops when Tweek pulls away to straddle himself onto Craig’s lap. He doesn’t know what is hotter; Tweek on his lap, or the lustful look in his eyes as he looks down at him. His breath hitches, his chest rising. If Tweek moves forward any closer, he will feel his hard-on. Craig cannot decide if he wants him to feel it, or not. Just the thought of Tweek, at all, touching his dick, even under layers of clothing, makes him throb.

“Is this okay?” Tweek asks coyly, running a finger over his chest, the small action somehow making his heart palpitate more.

“Y-yes,” Craig huffs out, causing a giggle to erupt from Tweek’s lips that would embarrass him if the giggle wasn’t so fucking _hot._ Craig brings his hands around the other male’s back, lurching forward to bind their lips again.

They fall into their heaven; the elements of time erased as they make-out on the blonde’s bed. Neither dare to move their hands further than at the hip, or thigh, but it’s very clear they both want to in the way they devour and explore each other. 

Craig has never experienced anything remotely as good as this feels, even at the highest he’s ever been, it wasn’t as good as this. 

Tweek feels the same; the make-out sessions, dry humping, and exchange of hand-jobs with his ex-boyfriend were good, but they were always missing something. Admittedly, Craig is way hotter than Pete. He honestly thinks Craig is the hottest specimen to ever walk this planet, with his big hazel eyes, roman nose, and exquisite smile. His body is long and lanky; each angle of his body sharp.

It is their first time kissing though, so even while both males crave it, they restrain themselves, not wanting to take things _too_ fast. 

In efforts to slow down, the two males eventually detach their lips and instead latch onto each other with their arms and feet. Tweek has a twin bed, which normally feels small and cramped with two people lying on it, but with how close he is to Craig; his arms tightly around him and his head in his chest, the bed is a perfect size.

“That was... hot,” Craig says. “You’re… _so_ fucking hot.”

Tweek giggles into his chest, his cheeks burning. “Thanks. So are you. But really … how do you feel?”

“Not to be cheesy, but really, all I feel is love.”

Tweek breaks into laughter at this. He pulls from Craig’s chest and meets him in the eyes, “wow, you’re such a dork.” He pokes him on the nose, causing the dark-haired male’s face to scrunch up with a grin. “And you also use sarcasm as a way to deflect, so tell me how you really feel.”

Craig beats bright red, which is how Tweek knows he isn’t lying when he says, “that wasn’t sarcasm.”

Tweek gapes at the male a moment before turning bright red himself. His eyes completely light up, his grin attempting to reach his ears. Craig does not miss the dimple on his cheek as he does so. Craig smiles back.

“Wow, you’re a bigger dork than I thought,” Tweek coos, “but… is that really all you feel?”

“I feel like every other emotion I have is being suffocated with happiness.”

He has a feeling this conversation will have to be returned to, but he lets it go for now. “So… does this mean we are, like, dating?”

Craig smiles coyly. “Are you asking me out?”

“I guess.”

“Well, the answer’s yes. Although, I didn’t think it even needed to be said.”

“Of course it needed to be said!”

“Tweek,” Craig exhales, pulling him close to him, the proximity forcing Tweek to rest his head against the other man’s shoulder; not that he minds. “You’re literally the only person I have ever said I love you too. Of course, I want to date you.”

Butterflies swarm in his stomach again. He feels victorious to be the only person able to have stolen his heart. “Okay. Well. I love you and want to date you. Just to make everything super clear.”

Craig chuckles, his shoulders and chest vibrating. He runs his hands through Tweek’s waves. “Okay. Well just to make things, super- _super_ clear, I love you, and want to date you, too.”

Tweek giggles, unsure if this moment can ever be topped. He feels like he is on top of the world; somehow landing a fairy-tale ending when he is a mere peasant boy. His high only comes down when midnight arrives, and Craig says his parents want him home. Tweek wants more than anything for him to stay, but he figures asking him to sleepover might freak him out. So he sorrowfully lets him go, but not before peppering him with a dozen kisses, or so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter was literally just creek making out and being cute and I'm here for that ok


	26. denver

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TY everyone :) !!!

As the days following, he and Tweek continue their relationship. Tweek attempts to bring up the conversation about his sexuality multiple times, but each time, Craig shuts the conversation down, either with a kiss or _I don’t want to talk about it._

It’s easier this way, at least for Craig, but Tweek is concerned. Craig was in denial for so long. He suffered under his father’s homophobia and still does, yet has nothing to say. He just claims to be happy, and Tweek just doesn’t believe that’s true. While it does seem that Craig is happy with him, he knows that a part of him still hurts. Tweek knows a lot has been left unsaid.

Things are perfect when they are alone _._

Craig has requested Clyde to pick up Tweek every morning. Clyde, obviously, still doesn’t know about them, but it’s an upgrade from the bus. Plus, Tweek likes seeing his boyfriend before school.

But it’s also a reminder that things are not perfect because if they were perfect, he would not only be able to see his boyfriend before school but kiss him too. He would be able to hold his hand as they walked down the hall after the first period together and peck him goodbye.

It only bugs him slightly. He honestly didn’t even think he was a big fan of PDA until he wasn’t allowed to do it. He is patient though, and the times they spend alone with each other are enough. He doesn’t want to rush Craig into outing himself to the whole school.

  
Although, Tweek sort of wishes to tell Kenny, especially when Kenny says, “you seem giddy lately…,” five days into their relationship. Tweek cannot deny or hide it. He can’t even hold back the smile.

“Do I?” He asks, distracting himself with something written in his notebook.

He feels Kenny starting at him. He wishes their teacher would just start the lesson so he could avoid lying to essentially his best friend.

“You and Tucker finally fuck or something?”

Tweek burns red, his eyeballs nearly falling out of his sockets. He picks up his pencil with a shaky hand and begins to doodle. “Um, no?” He chirps out. He holds a frown, summoning his inner-actor as he sends a glare to Kenny. “I’m just… excited about the play.”

Kenny raises his eyebrows, unconvinced, but lets the conversation die.

Tweek is not the only one who suffers the secret of their relationship though. As Craig watches Tweek and Bridon in rehearsal, he feels completely on edge. He doesn’t take his eyes off the pair. He half-worries that Tweek will leave him for Bridon due to his openness about his sexuality, compared to Craig’s own.  
  
Every time Tweek mentions sexuality to him, his brain just shuts down. He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t want to talk about it. He just wants to be with Tweek, and not discuss his feelings in regards to being gay. He doesn’t know why they even _have_ to talk about it. He is happy with Tweek, and that’s enough, but as he watches Bridon with his boyfriend, he suddenly feels angry that he has to keep his relationship secret. He feels angry with his father, angry with society, but most of all, angry with himself.

He wishes he could be more like Bridon, or Kenny, who everyone knew was into boys in middle school. Kenny never tried to deny it.

Speaking of the devil, the blonde boy saunters up to him with a smirk. “Whatcha looking at?”

Craig eyes him with flushed cheeks. He returns his eyes to the prop in front of him. “Nothing… just waiting for the cue.”

“Right.”

Craig swallows. He scratches the side of his neck. He doesn’t talk to Kenny much anymore. The only time he has even hung out with him recently was at Stark’s Pond, and that was only because he promised him to weed if he helped convince his parents to let Karen stay over.

He thought after he apologized for saying, _I’m not a fucking faggot, Kenny,_ that things would return to normal between them, but it didn’t. He feels even worse about it now, knowing that he was just irrationally misplacing his anger. As much as Kenny annoys him, he does value him as a friend.

He sucks in a breath, “remember that time I was a dick?”

Kenny barks out a laugh. “Which time?”

Craig huffs out a breath, shaking his head. “Shut up.”

“Are we talking about the time you said you’re not a fucking faggot?”

Craig bites his lip, his eyes downcast. It’s the first time the whole rehearsal that he has looked away from Tweek. 

So Kenny does remember.

“Yeah… _that_ time.”

“I vaguely recall. What makes you bring it up?”

Craig keeps his eyes locked onto the prop — the bookshelf he painted a while ago. “I just wanted to let you know why I was in a bad mood.”

“Um… oh, okay. Why?”

“The day before, my dad… he was being a giant dick,” he shakes his head once, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. “I mean he always is, but…,” he swallows. “He was all pissed off about you.”

“About me?” Kenny laughs. He crosses his hands over his chest. “What about me could he possibly be pissed about? Did I unknowingly do something to him?”

Craig lifts his head with a sigh. “No. You’re just… with Stan.”

Kenny’s eyebrows shoot up. The smile on his face falls to a straight line. “ _Oh_ …” he hums it over a moment. He looks down briefly, then returns his eyes to Craig. “I didn’t realize you’re dad wanted to fuck me.”

Craig stares for a moment. Kenny is half-sure Craig is about to punch him in the face, but then he begins to laugh. It’s not just a small laugh either, it’s a laugh that derives from the bottom of his throat, and Kenny just knows something has changed in this dark-haired-male to laugh at this.

Kenny laughs along, sort of nervous. “Wow… I didn’t think you’d find that funny, Tucker.”

Craig closes his mouth. He shifts his eyes to Tweek again. He interacts with someone else on the stage now. He returns his gaze to the blonde whose eyebrows nearly reach his hairline.

“I guess, maybe, I’ve changed… I just wanted to apologize again, I guess. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about the shitty things I’ve done, and saying that… even thinking about that,” he licks his lips and eyes the floor. “It kind of just, like… disgusts me? So… I’m sorry,” he peers up to Kenny.

Kenny nods, rubbing his chin slightly. “Uh…huh… well, thank you. I didn’t think you were capable of being so heartfelt, to be honest. It’s kind of weird, but thanks, it’s cool of you to apologize.”

Craig rolls his eyes and huffs out a puff of air, but smiles. He turns his head to the side, eyes catching on Tweek again.

“Tweek really made you a softie.”

Craig’s face drops. He knows Tweek wouldn’t tell Kenny without talking to him first so Kenny is probably just being… Kenny, but strangely, he doesn’t really want to argue. He is pretty tired of pretending, and he is not sure what the point is anymore especially with someone like Kenny.

He drags his eyes back onto the dirty blonde who wears a sly smile. Craig purses his lips to the side, deciding how to go on with the conversation. He is sure Kenny already knows from the prolonged silence. “I guess so.”

Kenny’s sly smile reaches into a grin as his eyes widen and he leans back onto his heels, arms still crossed. “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

Craig doesn’t know why but he can’t help but grin. He is sure it has to deal with Tweek though. He often has a hard time not grinning when Tweek is brought up. He eyes the floor, pursing his lips again, and grabbing the hair on the back of his neck. He nods. “Yup.”

“Then, I guess _you’re_ the fucking faggot now,” Kenny says with a snicker.

Craig glares at him. “I suppose I deserve that.”

Kenny laughs again. He sucks in a breath. “No, but dude, for real, that’s really cool, and not only because I get to tell Tweek I was right.”

“What?” Craig squints his eyes at him.

“I’ve been telling Tweek that you’re gay since, like, the beginning of the school year.”

“You … were?”

Kenny laughs. “Dude. You’re fucking obvious.”

Craig nods. As much as he doesn’t mind talking about Tweek, discussing his sexuality still makes him uneasy. “Don’t tell anyone, okay? Like … don’t tell Karen… she tells Tricia, and then —.”

“I won’t tell anyone. Even Stan, if you don’t want me to. This shit’s serious, and I get that.”

“Thanks,” Craig huffs out a bit of air, the idea of his father finding out on his mind. He has barely spoken to him for the last few days. Whenever he is around him, he just feels ill.

Although, the thoughts of his father shrink away as Tweek steps over to him and Kenny. Tweek wears a small, toothless smile, amber eyes lingering on him a moment longer than the dirty blonde. Craig, once again, for probably the hundredth time, cannot argue with the smile that forces its way across his face at the sight.

“What are we talking about?” Tweek asks the pair.

“You,” Kenny immediately interjects with a smirk.

Tweek’s eyes widen, his smile washing off his face. He shifts his gaze to Craig to gauge his reaction, but Craig just smiles at him still, as if he didn’t even hear Kenny. Tweek shifts his eyebrows together, eyes landing on the auburn eyes of the third male. “Uh… what?” He swallows, voice tight.

  
Kenny snickers. “Damn. I _really_ wish I bet money on this.”

At this, Craig’s smile falls to a frown. The sparkle in his hazel eyes unfurls into a glint as he glares at Kenny, raising his middle finger to him.

“What the fuck is going on!” Tweek demands, crossing his arms and staring between the pair.

“Kenny knows,” Craig shifts his eyes to his boyfriend. “About us.”

Kenny scoffs at this, “I been known, but Craig _admitted_ it, he means.”

Once again, Craig’s loving gaze to Tweek twists into a glower as he faces Kenny. “Whatever. _Yes_. Shut up, Kenny.”

Kenny snickers again, shoulders shaking from his laughter. “God, it’s so easy to make you mad.”

“You told him?” Tweek turns his attention to Craig, mouth agape and eyes enlarged.

Craig shifts his head to look at his favored blonde and nods with his lips smacked together. “I did.”

“That’s awesome,” Tweek beams at the dark-haired boy. Without thinking, he throws his arms around him. He freezes upon the action, not sure if this is acceptable to do in public.

Craig hugs him back, but it feels like more of a pat on the back than a _hug._ It’s different than when they are alone and he feels the safest he’s ever been.

With an exhale, Craig pulls away from the hug, hoping that Tweek doesn’t take it the wrong way, but feeling nervous at showing any form of affection in public with his boyfriend. He doesn’t know if he can control himself. It’s a slippery slope and Craig feels rather uncoordinated. He’s sure that if he isn’t careful, he will fall. If he lets himself hug Tweek; lets his guard down, he knows that the hug is going to look a lot more than friendly.

It’s safer to keep it brief.

Tweek seems to get it though, his eyes wide and cheeks red as he pulls away as if he is ashamed of what he did. Craig frowns, feeling bad that its his fault Tweek feels this way; just for wanting to hug his boyfriend. A pit of anger forms in his stomach at himself and the world, but he puts on a smile.

“Get a room,” Kenny says, dissolving the tension present.

Craig huffs out a breath of annoyance, but truly, he’s thankful for Kenny, both for the comment and the encouragement. Every time he tells someone, he feels lighter, even if at the same time he feels the knots in his stomach grow from anger.

At the end of the rehearsal, still feeling slightly guilty due to the awkward hug, Craig slivers over to Tweek as he gathers his stuff into his backpack backstage. He admires the way he just shoves it inside with no indication of saving his papers from wrinkles. He also admires his ass he bends over to reach for something he accidentally dropped on the floor.

“Hey,”

Tweek lifts his head to the voice and stands up, smile eliciting. “Hey.”

“Sorry bout earlier.”

“It’s okay… I’m the sorry one,” Tweek admits, sucking in a breath and throwing his backpack on his shoulder. “I probably shouldn’t have done that.”

Craig bites his lip. He hates that he is forcing this secret onto Tweek, but this conversation seems too close to an actual conversation concerning his sexuality, so he brushes past it. “What if we go down to Denver this weekend?” He asks, inhaling. “We could… get away from all the gossip of South Park… away from the people who would give a shit about us.”

Tweek’s lips twitch into a smile. “Uh, how?” He asks, dipping his chin down and eyes sparkling.

“How what?” Craig smiles, unable not to, once again. Tweek is just so fucking cute. He takes a step forward. Most people have fled the auditorium now. No one is backstage at least.

“How would we get to Denver?”

“I could take my dad’s car… I’ll tell him I have work… which is not a lie, but I’ll just call off.”

Tweek shakes his head instantly at this. “No, no, do not call off. I would feel too bad if you get fired. I don’t want that guilt on me, man.”

“I knew I shouldn’t have said that.”

Tweek frowns. “Don’t call off, Craig. I’m serious,” he glares at the other male. He cannot deal with the stress of worrying about Craig losing his job.

“It will be fine, I promise. Half the people no-call-no-show all the time, and nothing happens. I’ve never even missed a day, either.”

“What if your parents call for a pizza and you’re not there?” Tweek argues.

Craig holds back a laugh. “If they are getting pizza, they are either waiting for me to bring it home for free or ordering it from someplace that doesn’t taste like cardboard.”

Tweek huffs out a breath. “What if they do though?” He asks.

“Then _whatever._ I’ll figure something out,” he shrugs it off. Tweek still just stares with a frown and furrowed eyebrows. Craig exhales and reaches forward to caress the side of his face, the blonde relaxing under his touch.

“Please go on a date with me, babe. Don’t make me beg.”

Tweek’s face lights up at the pet name and just the whole statement. “Did you just call me babe?”

“Yes, is that bad?” Craig’s hand falls from the blonde male’s face.

“No,” Tweek’s lips curl into a farther grin, “I like it.”

“So… does that mean you’ll go on a date with me?”

Tweek smacks his lips together and hums. “I don’t know… I would like to see you get on your knees…”

Craig immediately goes hot at the statement. He is blown away at how direct he is. Just at the statement, he feels his cock twitch within his jeans.

Tweek giggles, “you know, to beg.”

Craig lets go of a breath he didn’t know he realizes he was holding. He stares into Tweek’s amber eyes and takes another deep breath inward, suddenly feeling extremely horny. “Really?” He asks. “Is that what you meant?”

“Mmmhm,” Tweek hums, biting down on his smile.

Unable to hold himself back, Craig lurches forward, connecting their lips — forgetting that they are in a public spot. Tweek immediately reacts by cupping the other male’s face in his hands. There is immediate use of the tongue, the dark-haired male pressing their chests together.

They only stop at the sound of Craig’s phone ringing.

He pulls his lips away and immediately frowns at the Caller ID.

He picks it up with Tweek’s hands still at the sides of his torso.

Tweek can hear the caller as he says, “what the fuck are you and Tweek doing? Do you want a ride or not?”

“Eh, just go. We’ll walk.”

“Um… okay… Are you sure? I don’t want you catching a cold.”

Tweek giggles at this, shaking his head.

“We’re fine. Bye, Clyde,” he ends the call before the male on the other line can get another word. Craig sighs as he lands his eyes on the blonde in front of him. “Wanna go to your place?” He asks.

Tweek nods, smiling.

As they walk home, unable to hold hands, the sinking feeling returns to Tweek. Maybe a night-out in Denver would be nice…

“Okay, I’ll go on a date with you... but it has to be on Saturday because I work Sunday, and also, if you get fired, I hate you.”

Craig laughs, “I never realized how hard it would be to get my _boyfriend_ to go on a date with me.”

Tweek beams at _boyfriend._ He hasn’t heard Craig refer to him this aloud yet.

Craig furrows a brow at the way Tweek looks at him. “What?” He asks.

“I’m just really happy,” Tweek decides.

“Me too,” he returns the smile.

“And I love you.”

Craig’s smile extends even farther. “I love you, too.”

Xxx

Craig wants to internally scream that he has to wear his stupid Papa Pizza’s uniform on his first fucking date with Tweek. He half-considers to text Kenny or Nichole to change into normal-fucking-clothes at their house before picking up Tweek, but he knows he would never hear the end of it from either of them. So instead, he just packs some clothes into a bag and decides he will just change in the car.

He spends nearly half-an-hour trying to do something with his hair, which is in desperate need of a cut. All his preparation and attempts deem worthless as he just pulls on a green beanie at the last minute. Oh well. Tweek’s favorite color is green… so.

He stiffens once he sees his father at the kitchen table. He has just come out of his room now. It’s not too late — noon. He has slept in longer. His original shift was supposed to start at 12:30. He purposely waited until the last minute to come down.

His mother stands at the grill, making bacon and eggs. He eyes his father’s plate which already has bacon on it and furrows his brows.

“Uh… what’s with all the bacon?”

“It expires today and we don’t want it to go to waste,” his father says.

“Oh,” Craig replies. He picks up a piece of cooked bacon off the tray on circular, plaid covered table.

“Craig, can you go get Tricia? Tell her breakfast is done, and that there is no reason for her to be sleeping past noon.”

“I actually have to get to work so… Dad, can I have the keys?”

“Did you take a shower?” His mother asks with a tilt of her head.

“Yep. Trying to get good tips,” Craig nods. “Gotta save up for the PS5 someway or another.”

“The keys are on the hook.”

“Great. Thanks.”

He takes another piece of bacon. “Well, see you guys later.”

“What time is your shift over?” His mother asks.

“Oh, it’s a long one,” he says, glad that he has been blessed with a monotone voice in this instant, “probably like til’ 10 at least?”

“Okay, well, have a good day, honey.”

“Thanks.”

“And before you go, tell your sister.”

Craig sucks in a breath as he trails away. He stops at the base of the staircase. “ _Hey Brat! Time to wake up!”_

_“Fuck you_!”

“ _TRICIA! DON’T CUSS!”_ His mother yells back.

Craig leaves the house before he hears anything else.

He stops at a street corner to change, shrugging out of his khaki-pants and putting on his favorite pair of black denim jeans with a hole at the knee. He takes off his jacket, then his Papa Pizza’s polo-shirt and replaces it with long sleeved grey t-shirt. He picks up the dark blue long-sleeved button up from his bag and shrugs it on, leaving the buttons undone. He doesn’t know why he is trying so hard with his outfit choice when he knows Tweek will look better. Also he is just going to throw a jacker over himself anyways.

  
For now though, he keeps the jacket off, wanting Tweek to see that he _tried_.

He starts the engine on the car again and heads to Tweek’s house. He notices that his parents’ cars are in the driveway and he internally dreads the idea of encountering them again. Luckily he doesn’t have to because the second Craig sends the text that he is here, Tweek comes stumbling out of the house.

Just as he expected, Tweek looks extraordinary, absolutely blowing him out of water. He wears olive-rolled-at-the-cuff pants and a cuffed tan jacket with embroidered patterns on the shoulders. His hair is arguably the fluffiest its ever been, and Craig is dying to run his fingers through it. Craig has to resist doing this once Tweek is at arm’s length. It would be just like Tweek’s parents to watch them through the window and then tell every single person they saw on the street.

As he reverses from Tweek’s driveway and into the street, where no one can see, he pushes his hands through the blonde’s hair with no warning.

“What the fuck, man?” Tweek responds to this, laughing and jerking away from the sudden touch.

Craig chuckles. “Sorry. It just looks and _is_ so soft.”

“Your hair is soft too, but you always keep it under a beanie,” Tweek swipes the beanie off his head to thread his fingers through the dark hair hair of the other male.

“Hey,” Craig glares at him. “Give it back,” he says, subconsciously combing his fingers through his hair to calm the pieces that stick up. He flicks his eyes to the rear view mirror, flattening his hair.

Eyes on the road, Craig doesn’t notice at first that Tweek wears the his beanie now. Craig has to force his eyes on the road, feeling like the butterflies in his stomach are going to be the root cause of his death at this point.

When Tweek says, _here you go_ , and sets it against his wrist, Craig shakes his head. “Actually you wear it.”

Tweek tilts his head. “Um, why?”

“It looks good on you,” Craig keeps his eyes on the road, speaking in a soft tone.

“Um, okay, but aren’t you going to be cold?”

“Not if I have you to keep me warm.”

Tweek flushes at this and shakes his head. Unable to come up with a coherent response, he just leans over the console and presses a kiss to the driver’s cheek.

Xxxx

Hand in hand, they walk through the streets of Denver, 60 miles out of South Park, and safe from prying eyes.

It feels good to be open like this about their relationship. Craig thought people would look at them for holding hands, but no one seems to care. They just mind their own business as the pair focuses on each other.

It makes Craig even sadder to return to South Park; the twist in his stomach even more tight as time passes. He doesn’t want to return to merely stolen glances and secret smiles. He wants to hold his hand in the hallway, and kiss him during rehearsal. He wants it to be like this always.

As they sit on the bench next to the dog park, watching the varying breeds of dogs interact with one another, Tweek seems to notice how his thoughts have gone astray.

“Are you … okay?”

Craig blinks and returns his gaze to the dogs. He isn’t even sure what he was looking at before. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

Tweek keeps his gaze on him, a slight arch forming at his brow line. “I just… It’s been, like, a week, and you still haven’t talked about… like, pretty much anything? I mean… I’m just, like, worried about you? I guess? Like coming out is really hard… and —,”

“Tweek,” Craig closes his eyes briefly as he rolls his head around to look at the blonde. “I’m fine. Really.”

“Can you at least admit you’re not? And then I’ll leave you alone.”

“What if I don’t want you to leave me alone?”

“Stop being cute,” Tweek rolls his eyes. “It’s not good to bottle up and ignore all your —,”

Then, Craig cuts him off with his lips, and the argument ceases. Tweek may be able to argue with Craig’s words, but when he uses his mouth on him in this _other_ way, he is entirely useless.

Xxx

Craig takes him to a Mexican restaurant in Denver, which Tweek laughs at because _it is very messy food for a first date_ , but the food ends up being rather exceptional, so Tweek praises him for the choice. Tweek also steals the bill when it arrives, which Craig pouts at. Tweek points out that the other male took off work today to be here, so the least he can do is pay.

After dinner, they walk through the streets of Denver some more; it dark enough now to see all the Christmas lights. It’s beautiful and awing, but the only thing either wants to do is touch and kiss one another.

It takes six blocks, but Tweek finally summons the courage to say, “hey… want to go back to the car for a little bit?”

Maybe it’s a secret love language of sorts or the lust in his amber eyes as he says it, but Craig seems to know _exactly_ what he means.

At a much quicker pace than before, they head to Craig’s car, which happens to be in a moderately vacant parking structure — full enough to not creep Tweek out, but also empty enough to make it the perfect place for them.

Once they get into the car, they immediately begin to devour each other. With every make-out session between them, it’s harder and harder to keep their hands from wandering. Especially when Craig thinks of what Tweek said the other day at rehearsal… _I’d like to see you on your knees._

In a weird way, he feels like he _hasn’t_ lost his virginity. He knows he _has,_ but the whole time he was completely detached. He was _indifferent._ He was nervous, but not like _this._ It didn’t feel special and important as it does with Tweek right now. It instead felt more like a medical procedure.

He doesn’t know Tweek’s sexual history. He knows he dated Pete, and they didn’t date for _long,_ but he has no idea what could have happened before and during the time they dated. He feels like it’s for sure weird to ask in the middle of a make-out session, and yet, he does. “Are you a virgin?” he pulls away.

“What!?”

“Sorry. I just,” he swallows. “Fuck. I’m sorry,” he shifts way, looking at his lap. This was definitely not the time to bring it up.

“It’s… fine, um… just, I don’t know you caught me off guard with that,” Tweek bites his bottom lip. He sucks in a breath and grabs Craig’s forearm so he turns to him. Craig opens his eyes further, waiting for whatever it is Tweek is about to say. “I guess I am… it’s kind of blurred in the … LGBT world… But I haven’t done anal, if that’s what you’re asking… and I’ve haven’t done anything with oral.”

Craig nods. He mulls it over. He doesn’t even know how relevant it is that he’s slept with two girls. It honestly feels extremely irrelevant. He feels like Tweek is somehow way more experienced than him. The experiences just seemed so… not sexual. Not like this.

Still, if not just because he is awkward and not sure how to respond, he says, “do you want to know something funny?”

Tweek furrows his eyebrows together. “I rather… do something else,” Tweek leans over and brushes his lips over Craig’s mouth.

It pains Craig to pull away, but he hopes the plan is worth it. He speaks in a low and raspy tone against the blonde’s lip, his hands tousled in his hair. “Whenever a girl sucked my dick, I thought I could do better.”

After a pause, Tweek begins to laugh gingerly, his body vibrating. He lifts his head up and eyes Craig with a smirk. “Full of yourself, huh?”

“I think I just wanted to suck dick actually.”

Tweek’s stomach coils into a knot as goosebumps line his arms; the admittance of this seemingly leading to something else. “Yeah?” he mumbles, eyes half-lid.

“Yeah,” Craig connects their lips again; the kisses that follow more sensual than before — everything that follows more sensual than before.

xxx

Later that night, Craig decides that his hypothesis is true. He knows there is no way to prove it, but he just knows he’s better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~ i know this was more creek fluff ,,, i threw up tbh


	27. gay tv

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once again would like to say thanks to everyone!! but especially my good ole friends ambercreek95 n jewboykahl :)
> 
> btw there is smut in this chapter so if that’s not ur thing, pls scroll past it :)

He watches Bridon kiss his boyfriend on stage three separate times.

It’s fucking awful, and he can’t wait until this whole play is over so he no longer has to watch the two exchange saliva.

Clyde is too busy flirting with Heidi to seem to notice Craig, but Nichole does.

He told Nichole about his relationship with Tweek the day after Clyde’s party. She asked him to give all the details, to which he responded with a _no_ too. She then asked two more times, and he caved. Now, she ridicules him, and he regrets telling her anything.

“You’re so jelly,” she teases, poking him in the lower rib cage.

He glares at her and denies it, but she continues the teasing throughout the rehearsal. By the third make-out session between his boyfriend and another male, Nichole says, “it’s okay, Craig… I’d be jealous too!”

He still denies it though because he is _not_ jealous. It’s just weird to see your secret boyfriend make out with another openly gay male. It’s _weird_ to hear people _coo_ at them; it’s _fucking obnoxious_ when Clyde comes up to you and says, “you know, he and Tweek would be a cute couple.”

Craig scoffs and disagrees with Clyde.

“Nah, Bridon is annoying as fuck,” Craig disputes.

“You just think everyone’s annoying.”

“That’s because everyone _is_ annoying.”

Craig is annoyed, but he lets it go and just waits till’ the end of rehearsal for the nightmare to be over.

After rehearsal is over, Craig sticks around backstage as everyone else leaves. Well, everyone but his boyfriend, anyway.

Tweek saunters up to him, a stupid smirk on his face. Craig already disdains whatever he is going to say. He crosses her arms over his chest upon the blonde’s approach.

“You’re looking rather green,” he teases.

“Green?”

“Yup. _Green._ Jealous.”

“I’m not _green_ , or jealous.”

Tweek laughs at this which increases Craig’s level of irritation. The blonde quirks an eyebrow. “It’s fine, Craig. Really. It’s _cute_ ,” he rests his hands on his forearms, looking up at him with sparkling amber eyes.

Craig frowns. “It’s just w _eird.”_

_“Weird,_ huh?”

“Yes. Weird… and everyone is like… obsessing over you guys, and keeps calling you guys adorable, and it’s just… annoying.”

“Okay, but you’re not jealous?” Tweek smirks. “Just to clarify?”

“No.”

Tweek snickers again. “Okay. _Sure_ , I believe you.”

Craig’s face falls, a frown forming. Tweek giggles at his facial attitude and leans forward, pressing a kiss against his closed mouth. Craig watches him through nearly shut eyes, keeping his arms over his chest.

Tweek ghosts his nose over his cheek, his lips almost grazing over his own. “You’re a better kisser, don’t worry,” Tweek whispers in a sultry promise.

His normal, stoic, emotionless side fails him as his mouth twitches into a smirk. Tweek smirk back, his honey eyes full of magic. Craig leans forward, capturing the slightly chapped, but perfect lips with his own.

Tweek hurriedly kisses him back, enclosing his arms around the other male’s body and pulling him closer.

The kiss is aggressive and harsh — tenderness foreign, as Craig moves his mouth across his jaw and begins to nibble on his neck. Tweek giggles, closing his eyes and leaning his head back with a sigh. He would give anything right now to have Craig right here and now.

“You’re not jealous but you’re giving me a hickey?”

“It’s unrelated,” Craig mumbles against his neck as he continues to suck on his flesh.

Tweek rolls his eyes and pushes him away, but keeps his hands on his shoulder. Craig keeps his hands on his boyfriend’s hips as he steps away.

“Shouldn’t we get going? Clyde is going to have a bitch fit.”

Craig sighs. “I guess you’re right.”

“I am always right.”

Craig rolls his eyes and shoves him away. “Alright, asshole, let’s get going.”

“I’m not the asshole, _”_ Tweek laughs as he follows the other male through the curtains and across the stage. “You, the king of the assholes, cannot call _me_ an asshole. You have no right.”

“I do what I want. I’m the king.”

Tweek catches up to him and hits him in the shoulder blade, making Craig snicker.

They walk off stage and out of the auditorium. Sometime between the auditorium, and Clyde’s car, Tweek invites him over. Craig says he has to study for the American Lit test tomorrow, along with the final exams next week. Tweek suggests to study together. Craig can’t say no, even knows it will be physically impossible to focus on final exams while alone and unsupervised with Tweek Tweak.

  
Clyde drops them off at Tweek’s house, complaining about the _no invite,_ but Craig explains that they are _trying_ to study. Whenever he tries to study with Clyde, Clyde just talks the whole time and shows him Tik Toks.

He doesn’t mention that he predicts Tweek will be just as bad as a study partner.

Possibly worse.

XXXX

“You know I never returned you for the favor the other day,” Tweek says about twenty minutes into their study session.

“You seriously don’t let favors go, do you?” Craig perks his head up from his American Lit vocabulary words to look at his boyfriend.

To this, a sly smile reaches across the blonde’s face. The look dooms him. He is going to fail his test tomorrow, he already knows it.

“W-what favor are you talking about?” Craig asks, coughing into his arm to try and cover the higher pitch his voice has unwarrantedly taken on.

Tweek laughs, setting down his homework on the coffee table and placing his hands on the dark-haired male’s shoulders instead. He tips his chin down, his hungry eyes half-lid and glimmering with desire. Craig is going to fail all his final exams if this is what he is going to have to compete with.

“We are supposed to be studying, remember?” Craig cocks an eyebrow, settling his hands on top of the male’s hips.

“It shouldn’t take long,” Tweek promises. Craig knows he is right. His dick went hard from Tweek just _looking_ at him — he cannot even fathom how fast he will come with Tweek’s mouth around his cock. The thought of it makes his dick throb.

He leans forward to capture the blonde’s lips to his own, pulling him by the hips to pull him on top of him. He lays back onto the couch cushions, his notebook and papers falling onto the floor; the thud going unnoticed between the two.

Tweek pulls his lips away, “so … do you _want_ the favor returned?”

Craig grins, pushing back some hair that has fallen against the blonde’s flushed cheeks. He licks his lips, “don’t call it a favor… I _enjoyed_ doing it.”

Tweek’s lips tug into a grin as his cheeks turn red. He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth and lets out a small puff of laughter. “Okay… _well_ … you think you might _enjoy it_ on the other end?”

“If you’re on the other end? Definitely.”

Tweek’s eyes light up at this. He reaches forward, pressing a single kiss to his mouth before retreating. As he pulls away and begins to undo his belt, Craig sits up slightly to look at the male. He bulges his eyes slightly. “Here?” he glances around the living room. “What if you’re parents come home?”

“They _won’t,”_ Tweek hisses, “trust me… also,” he pulls away the belt and throws it to the ground. “I don’t know… it’s kind of …,” Tweek ghosts his fingers over the bulge in his jeans, making his entire body jerk; a shiver shooting up his spine. “ _Hot_ ,” Tweek eyes him; those hungry, lustful eyes once again possessing him.

He groans as Tweek applies more pressure, laying back down onto the couch because he cannot _take it._ “ _You’re_ hot,” Craig huffs out.

Tweek giggles. “So… you’re sure you want me to?”

“I’m fucking positive.”

Another giggle erupts from his boyfriend as his jeans come undone. He helps shrug his pants down further to expose further access to his hard cock. The blonde male grabs the waistband of his briefs and pulls those down as well. Craig lifts his head to watch as his boyfriend’s hands stroke the shaft of his cock. He rolls his head back in pleasure; unsure how long he can last when he is already oozing pre-cum at the _touch_ of Tweek’s _hand_.

He forces his eyes open to watch Tweek take his head into his mouth. He lets out a sigh of pleasure as the other male begins to move his messy blonde head up and down — the feeling phenomenal. It’s hard to say which is hotter; the visual of Tweek Tweak sucking his dick or the _feeling_ of it.

Probably the feeling of it, but it is a close call.

He doesn’t even have to be _gay_ to know that Tweek is just simply _better_ at sucking dick than the girls before him. He goes _so_ deep and occasionally swipes his head with his tongue. He doesn’t think he’s ever experienced anything more pleasurable in his entire life.

It feels _out-of-this-world._ He breathes heavily, his whole body tightening. He wants to preserve himself, but it’s impossible. After less than a minute of the action; he hisses out, “fuck, I’m gonna come.”

Then, as if Tweek couldn’t be any _hotter,_ he flashes his amber eyes up at him with his cock in his mouth. It is the hottest thing he’s _ever_ seen, and he knows he will replay the visual in his mind again thousand times over. He can’t hold himself. It all comes out and Tweek _swallows_ it; the fucking pleasure of it overcoming him as he lays back down onto the couch. His chest rises and falls in obtuse movements, his heartbeat about to explode.

“Fuck,” Craig breathes, eyes still closed. “That was … fucking amazing. You’re amazing. _Fuck,”_ he exhales harshly.

__

“Told you it wouldn’t take long,” Tweek chirps, making a lazy smile cross Craig’s face; his eyes still closed.

“You were right about that.”

Tweek snickers and crawls forward to lay on top of the other male; their chests and abdomens pressed together. Craig opens his eyes with half-lid eyes, a lazy smile still placed on his lips. Tweek returns the lazy smile with a coy one.

“And if my ADHD wasn’t bad enough without you around…,”

“Should I leave?” Craig asks, amusedly, really hoping the blonde says no.

“Definitely not,” Tweek lets out a sigh of content as he buries his head into the other male’s chest and curls his arms under his torso.

Tweek closes his eyes. Craig admires him for a moment and brushes his hands through his soft hair, before saying, “but … like, we should really get back to studying… probably…”

“Probably,” Tweek hums.

But they _don’t_.

They lay there for another half-hour; Craig’s fingers tousled in blonde locks, and the sound of Craig’s heartbeat playing in Tweek’s head.

X

Clyde picks him up from school, One Direction blaring.

Usually, Clyde’s pop music is too much for him, at least this early in the morning, but today, he doesn’t mind it. He’s in a good mood, and Clyde seems to notice this upon his arrival within his convertible.

Clyde seems to notice his behavior change, _period_.

“Okay, what gives? We have been in this car almost thirty seconds now, and you’ve _yet_ to try taking the aux, complain, or turn the volume down. We’re you abducted and brainwashed by aliens last night, or something?”

_Perfect_ by One Direction blasts on the speakers. It is a love song. Craig thinks it’s pretty fucking cheesy, but it’s good, honestly.

“No… this song just isn’t that bad.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Clyde, if you want me to insult you, believe me, I’m not lacking any insults. Don’t worry.”

“Asshole,” Clyde scoffs. “So what gives? Why aren’t you?” He eyes his friend in the passenger seat, noting the tiny smile that seems to be spilled over his lips. “You’ve been in a good mood lately, and it’s freaking me out, dude.”

“I can’t be happy?”

“Yeah, of course, you can. I want you to be! But, like, what did you do? Do I need to find my passport?”

Craig laughs at this, glancing out the window. They are close to Tweek’s house now. It’s a very short drive.

“No, I didn’t do anything _illegal,_ and by the way, I think if either of us _did_ need to flee the country, it would be _you.”_

_“_ Well, I would still flee with you,” Clyde offers, steering his car to turn the corner. “So if it’s not something _illegal…_ what is it? You have some secret girlfriend, or something?”

Craig bites his lip, eyeing his lap. He knows Clyde will respond positively. If he tells him, it’s one less person to have to hide it from. It’s less weight off his shoulders. “It’s… _something_.”

Clyde glances over at him with furrowed eyebrows. He dances between the road and Craig as he says, “what, like, a friend with benefits?”

“What,” Craig asks without lifting the end of the word. “No.”

Clyde pulls in front of the Tweak residence and honks, even though it’s a very annoying thing to do. Craig sends his boyfriend a text that they are here. Usually, it takes Tweek about two minutes to come out because he is always running late.

“I don’t know — you hate feelings, and who doesn’t like sex? Seems like the perfect combo for you.”

Craig shakes his head with a huff of air, “no, Jesus, Clyde.”

Clyde raises his hands in defense. “Okay, damn, sorry. So what is it then?”

Craig licks his lips, eying the house. Thinking about Tweek always makes him feel more confident about this — always makes him feel better in general. He keeps his eyes on the house as he says, “It’s Tweek.”

At first, Clyde doesn’t respond, and Craig is convinced he is going to be weird about it, but when Craig looks back at him, he just looks puzzled.

“Yeah, dude, this is Tweek’s _house_ … I know. I’ve been picking him up the last two weeks almost. You got brain damage or something?”

Craig rolls his eyes and shakes his head, a stream of air blowing through his mouth. “ _No,_ ” Craig says. “I’m saying… It’s _Tweek._ He is _something.”_

It takes a moment, but Clyde’s eyebrows rise, his mouth parting. He raises his hand over his cheek, “you’re saying, like, you … he is your? You’re —,” he blinks a couple of times. “Woah — holy fuck, dude.”

  
“Yes.. he is my _boyfriend.”_

Clyde lets out a scoff of laughter and grins widely. Craig feels widely uncomfortable under his gaze and ducks his head down, but then the gaze is replaced with Clyde’s arms wrapped around him. Craig sighs at this, but smiles. He is happy to have his best friend’s support. He places his hands over his back and hugs him back.

“ _Dude,_ ” Clyde says, “that’s _awesome!”_

He hears a sniffle and he pushes the brunette away. “Are you _crying?”_ Craig accuses, searching the other male’s face.

Clyde wipes a tear off his cheek. “I’m just — I’m so emotional! I’m so happy, but also so _sad_ because you’re into guys, and I didn’t know. You’ve been suffering in silence!”

Craig blows at air through his pursed lips. Clyde may have a point, but he for fucking sure is not talking about it right now with _Clyde._

Luckily, Tweek’s front door opens at this moment.

Craig gets out of the car so he can allow Tweek into the backseat, as Craig’s convertible only has two doors, and you have to crawl into the backseat from the front. Craig adjusts his chair so Tweek has easy access to the back seat. He eyes Clyde as he does so, who is still rubbing his crying eyes and smiling brightly at him.

“I’m so proud of you, dude.”

“For moving the car seat?”

Clyde shakes his head, “you know!”

Craig sighs.

“Uh… what’s going on?” Tweek notices Clyde crying as he ducks down to crawl into the backseat. Immediately after Tweek crawls to the backseat, Craig adjusts the passenger seat back to normal, and takes his seat.

“I’m so happy for you both!” Clyde exclaims. “It’s so… amazing.”

“Uhhhh…” Tweek says.

Craig pinches his eyebrow, inhaling. “I told Clyde about us, and now he is … having a melt down.”

“I’m not having a melt down! I’m just _happy for you!”_

_“_ You told Clyde!?”

“Clearly,” Craig throws a hand up to his blabbering, idiot, best friend.

“So I can do this then?” Tweek asks before leaning over middle console. He grabs Craig’s face into his hands and places a kiss onto his cheek. “I’m so proud of you, baby!”

Craig goes completely red from Tweek’s kiss and words; every part of his face and neck deep with crimson. Clyde suddenly stops crying and bursts into laughter, pointing a finger at his friend with wide eyes. “ _Dude!_ You’re so red!”

Tweek laughs alongside him. Craig sinks down into his seat, pulling his hat over his eyes.

“Can you please just drive.”

Clyde’s laughter does not cease as he starts the engine. “God,” Clyde shakes his head with smile, “I can’t wait for more of this.”

Craig groans, but overall, he feels happy. He feels relief that Tweek can kiss him on the cheek in Clyde’s car; he feels comfort in Clyde’s reaction. Logically, he knew he would react positively, but he was still scared. It feels good to have it out there now though. It feels good to have Clyde know that he is Tweek’s boyfriend, (and not Bridon.)

X

It’s Friday night and his mother has coerced him into a family dinner.

As he sits here, awkwardly eating enchiladas in silence, he wishes he tried harder to get out of it. Tweek works today. Clyde has a date with Heidi. Token is with Wendy. He should have asked Kenny.

He especially wishes he asked Kenny when his father brings up the adult cartoon, _North City,_ and how they placed gay characters into the show.

“I just don’t get why they need to put these gay characters into every single TV show now? And a _Children’s_ cartoon? Seriously?”

Craig furrows his brow. He knows his dad doesn’t watch the show, but it is most _certainly_ not a children’s show. “Dad, just because it’s a cartoon, doesn’t automatically make it a children’s show… that show is for adults.” _And even if it was a children’s TV show, who cares?_

“Is it? I suppose that makes me feel a little better,”

Craig stabs his enchilada a little too harshly and the fork grates against the plate, causing an unpleasant shrilling noise. Unfortunately, the unpleasant noise is not enough to stop his father.

“I just feel like they are constantly shoving it down our throats — like fine, be gay, but why does _everything_ have to be gay?”

Craig tightens his jaw as he tears his enchilada with his fork.

“Thomas, do we really have to talk about this at dinner?”

“I’m just saying, Laura, it’s… everywhere. You can’t turn on the TV without seeing it, and then with this play at Craig’s school… I just don’t get _why_ it has to be _everywhere._ They even put a rainbow flag outside the Methodist church on third street! A church!”

“ _Thomas,_ ” his mother growls.

Craig inhales deeply, feeling completely stiff. He wants to see Tweek.

“Can I go now?” Tricia asks after a beat of silent tension.

Tricia asked before dinner to hang out with Karen. Their mom said she had to eat dinner first. Craig eyes her plate — it’s all gone. She must have just inhaled it to get out of here. He decides in this moment his sister is smarter than him.

“Fine,” his mother allows.

The rest of dinner is awkward and quiet. Craig quickly finishes and brings his plate to the dishwasher before retreating to his room.

He feels heavy and just wants to talk to Tweek but he knows he is at work. He sends him a text.

**CRAIG:** I wish you were off tonight.

After sending the text that he knows he won’t receive a response from anytime soon, he sends Kenny one.

**CRAIG:** hey, wanna hang?

**KENNY:** can’T working,,, but if u wanna pay for some of my time, sure ;))

Craig rolls his eyes.

**CRAIG:** nope.

**KENNY:** sux 4 u

It’s times like this where Craig wishes he had more friends. He doesn’t want to be home. He just feels _annoyed._ He feels anxious too. He just feels overall, bad. He turns on his PS4 and starts up Red Redemption 2 online. The bad feeling doesn’t go away though. It just gets _worse_ as time passes; the conversation replaying over and over again in his head.

How is his dad ever going to be fine with _him_ when he he can’t even take fictional, _cartoon,_ characters on TV being gay?  
  


He strangely feels tears prickle at the corners of his eyes as he plays the PS4. He ignores it and pushes through. He doesn’t cry.

After nearly two hours with his PS4 as his only company, Tweek responds.

**TWEEK:** fuck me too. Today was annoying

Craig swallows. He almost wishes Tweek asked if something was wrong. Maybe he would actually tell him. He doesn’t know how to say he is upset. He never does. He never has known. Whenever he feels upset, he just swallows it and waits for his mood to change.

He isn’t like Tweek or Clyde. He can’t just _express_ his troubles. He doesn’t even know how. The words just won’t come out. Besides, it seems rather stupid to be so upset about his dad’s opinions on TV shows.

So, he just swallows it, and says,

**CRAIG:** that sucks… when you get home you wanna play online with me?

**TWEEK:** hell yeah(:

Maybe he will feel less like shit when Tweek is on the other end of his virtual world.

Xx

The next day when he hangs out with Tweek before work, he still feels like shit. He doesn’t know why, but when Tweek asks him why he is down, he can’t say. The words feel stuck in his chest. He feels like a dam has been built in his throat. Nothing comes out.

So he just kisses Tweek instead and while he can tell Tweek doesn’t like this answer, Tweek kisses him back.

He knows kisses will only work as answers for so long though.

He cannot runaway from his problems forever.


	28. the play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> wanna give a HUGE shout out to the king jewboykahl for beta reading and editing this chapter for me. they are the fuckin bees knees. also shout out to my queen, ambercreek95 as well because they beta read my smut n also just inspire me as well. 
> 
> anyways
> 
> u heard me, smut! if you don't want to read it, it's the last bit :) 
> 
> thanks everyone for reading and reviewing. you all are cute. please be nice thanks

He tells Craig to not pick him up for school today.

He just feels too anxious to be around people right now and he wants to smoke a cigarette.

The play is this week and he is freaking out. He feels like his nerves are shot. He doesn’t know why he does this to himself — why did he sign up for something that is so anxiety-inducing, anyway? He doesn’t know how he is supposed to do it. He feels like an absolute fucking disaster. He barely got an ounce of sleep the night before, and it’s only Monday.

He smokes two cigarettes before school starts and throws a piece of gum into his mouth before entering the building. He’s arrived after the first bell, so he has to collect a tardy slip from the attendance office even though this detour only makes him  _ later  _ to class. This is something Tweek will never get.

The morning announcements have already ended so Craig is in his normal seat, with his favorite blue hat, and a small indication of a smile aimed at him. Tweek flips a corner of his mouth up at the other male before taking his seat.

The entire time, the vibration of his leg refuses to quit. He fidgets and squirms, and is in desperate need to get out of this constrictive learning environment known as the high school classroom.

After an excruciating fifty minutes, the bell finally rings, and Tweek shoves his notebook — just filled with  _ doodles  _ and  _ zero notes  _ — into his backpack. He knows he can’t just  _ flee _ from Craig, but he sort of wants to. He just feels too hyper-aware right now and he wants to cut out all the noise.

He stalls.

Usually, he is the one to show up at his boyfriend’s desk. He often takes much longer putting his things away; putting them away in a concise, orderly fashion that Tweek’s brain cannot possibly grasp. Even after that time Craig helped him clean and organize his locker, it ended up looking the same as before about a week after. Tweek hopes Craig would not notice.

Craig steps over to greet him and they depart from the classroom. Tweek wraps his arms around himself as they walk through the hallway, wishing to shrink away from the crowd.

“Are you okay?” he hears his boyfriend ask.

“Y-yeah, I’m okay.”

He hears a short laugh and looks over.

“Is that why you decided to walk to school today in 10-degree weather? I mean I know Clyde’s annoying, but it’s a short enough drive with him.”

Tweek’s lips twitch into a smile. He looks down at their feet as they walk; noticing Craig’s Adidas sneakers that he wears with almost every outfit. “Ten degrees is  _ not  _ that bad, and the sun was up — so it really  _ wasn’t  _ that bad.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot you used to run around shirtless in the winter.”

“Hey, don’t say it like that — you make me sound like some kind of weirdo, it was for a  _ game,”  _ Tweek wears a slightly wider smile now, elbowing him in the arm.

“Hey, nothing wrong with running around shirtless,” Craig shrugs, looking straight ahead. “I  _ encourage _ you to pick that up again.”

Tweek lets out a breath of laughter at this. He looks down, feeling his stiff body relax a little. Although the good feeling is fleeting, the feeling of anxiety shortly following with its wrath. Tweek frowns.

They get to the corner in which they usually split up and Tweek is about to say goodbye, but Craig grabs his arm. “Let’s be late to second period and talk.”

“I was literally  _ just  _ in the attendance office. She hates me. I can’t be late for two classes in a row.”

“Come on, Tweek, don’t act like you give a shit about attendance now, you come late almost every day.”

“No I don’t… Ever since Clyde started to pick me up, I’ve been  _ very  _ much on time, thank you very much.”

Craig’s lips perk into a small smile. “ _ Whatever.  _ Then Ms.  _ Who-The-Fuck-Cares-What-She-thinks  _ won’t care. You’ve been good lately.”

Tweek feels like Craig could find the logical argument in almost  _ everything,  _ and he hates it. But the truth is, he does not want to go to his next class. He wants to smoke, but ever since homecoming, he’s restricted himself from doing so on school grounds…

“Fine,” Tweek relinquishes. “I’ll be a delinquent with you.”

By this point, a lot of the student body has dispersed to their designated classrooms. 

“You want to go enjoy the  _ nice  _ weather or you want to go to the AV room? No one should be in there.”

Tweek does a half-eye-roll at the comment, “Let’s go outside. I could use the fresh air, and also because you’re kind of an asshole.”

“Kind of? That’s  _ kind of  _ a compliment then. Everyone else just says  _ asshole.” _

“Okay, I take that back then, you  _ are  _ an asshole,” Tweek smiles at him as they turn the corner  _ together  _ instead of splitting up. 

They head to the spot where Tweek  _ used  _ to smoke. Tweek does not mention to Craig that he suggests this spot because he is fighting the urge to pull out his third stick of the day.

Once they step outside, Tweek immediately notices Craig’s shift. The taller male wraps his arms around himself and blows out a puff of air. 

“Are you sure you’re not from, like, California or something?”

“It must be my Peruvian ancestors. We are not built for being this far from the equator.”

Tweek laughs and then the bell rings, making him jump, causing Craig to laugh. He shoots him a glare, and then Craig says, “Sorry, babe, you’re just so cute,” and the initial irritation fades. Craig brushes a hand over his cheek, and Tweek frowns. He feels bad for Craig almost — the sad look in his eyes, trying to figure Tweek out. Tweek can’t figure Tweek out though, so good luck.

“What’s on your mind, baby?”

“The play. I’m… God, fuck. I don’t know why I do this to myself.”

Craig’s frown deepens and he lets go of his cheek, only to grab his hand instead. They take a seat on the empty milk crates, Craig not letting him go.

“Do what to yourself?”

“Set myself up for fucking anxiety — like, why do I do this? I should just crawl into a cave, and stay there. Then at least I just have to deal with my brain, and no external factors.”

“Living in a cave seems like it would have some external issues…”

Tweek glares at him.

“But hey, I feel you. Maybe we could both move to that cave together,” Craig offers a smile. It’s a  _ sad  _ smile. Craig was in a weird mood this past weekend, but Craig does not  _ pour his feelings out  _ like Tweek. Maybe he should be more like Craig. He is going to fucking scare him away.

“You don’t want to be in a cave with me,” Tweek’s eyes fall, “I’d probably annoy the hell out of you.”

“Maybe because  _ you’d  _ be able to handle how fucking freezing it is, and I wouldn’t, but other than that, no, I can’t think of a single thing that would annoy me.”

A smile tugs it way out onto Tweek’s lips as he flicks his eyes open to stare at the male in front of him. Craig looks very serious — eyes boring into his and a slight rise to the corners of his mouth.

“You don’t mean that.”

“Of course I mean that. I love you,” Craig vouches. He drops Tweek’s hand and cups the blonde’s face instead. Tweek looks at him with furrowed eyebrows and a slight frown, eyes swelling up with admiration but also worry. Tweek is annoying and anxious. Craig is just in the beginning of this relationship, so he doesn’t realize it fully. 

  
“Tweek, I’m serious,” Craig declares. “I feel …  _ best  _ whenever I’m with you, so if you want to move to a cave, I’ll follow you there.”

Tweek stifles a small breath of laughter at this. “Your Peruvian blood could never.”

“Then let’s move to a cave closer to the equator — or at least out of the mountains.”

Tweek laughs again, his eyes fluttering down. He wishes he didn’t feel so heavy. He wishes he didn’t doubt Craig’s love so much. He wishes he could say all of his thoughts without fearing he will annoy the other male. 

He just has  _ so  _ many thoughts.

Tweek grabs Craig’s wrist, rubbing his thumb across the soft underside. “Can we before Thursday?”

“Sure,” Craig says, “but I think you’d be doing the whole world a great disservice by cutting them out on your great performance. You’re really good, Tweek.  _ Really _ .”

Tweek exhales thoughtfully. He flicks his eyes to hazel. “You’re just saying that because you want to bone me.”

Craig bursts out in laughter, eyes crinkling. He lets go off Tweek’s face and places his hands on his knees instead. Tweek notices that Craig touches him almost all the time they are alone together.

“That may be true, but… I speak with my heart and not my dick when I say you’re really talented, Tweek.”

Tweek grins, both at the silliness of the conversation, and just  _ Craig  _ in general. “You make me believe in myself more.”

Craig squeezes one of his knees, “Thanks, so do you.”

  
Tweek lets out a quiet scoff. “How?”

“How do you think I came out to Kenny and Clyde?”

He sets his hands over the hands on his knees. “That was all you, baby.”

“No, seriously. It wasn’t. I know that without you I wouldn’t have been able to.”

Tweek beams at him and leans forward, pressing his lips to the other male’s. Craig folds his fingers through blonde locks and kisses him back in equal tenderness. He tries to forward the kiss further with tongue, but Tweek pulls away with a small laugh.

“We should probably go to class.”

Craig pouts slightly. “Or we could make out.”

Tweek can’t hold back his grin as he shakes his head. “I’m not looking to get anymore detentions.”

Craig blows out some air, “Yeah, you’re right.”

Tweek smirks at him, “I always am,” he taps the dark-haired male on the nose, making him throw up a middle finger to him. Tweek stands up and flips him off in response. 

Craig gets up as well and the couple heads to the attendance office to get their tardy slips. After talking to Craig, Tweek feels somewhat calmer; calm enough to at least get through today and rest of rehearsal, at least.

  
  
  


x.

  
  
  


Tweek hasn’t even told his parents he’s in the play. He is almost sure if he did, they would just instantly forget. He doesn’t  _ really  _ even care anymore. He just wants to get away from them, so, when he says to Craig, “My parents are going to some weird coffee convention this weekend, and I’m so happy,” he  _ really  _ means it, but Craig doesn’t seem to believe him.

“They aren’t coming to the play?”

Tweek actually laughs out loud at this. They sit together in the auditorium seats, waiting for their director to show up for rehearsal. Since the play is two days away, the rehearsal is going even  _ longer  _ into the night, as the rehearsal did the day before. Tweek still feels extremely anxious about the play, but when he is on stage, he sort of  _ forgets  _ about this anxiety, so he is kind of happy with the extra time. 

Tweek is incredibly thankful that their final exams are the first week back from winter break, unlike other schools, or he would probably just flat out die this week. He has absolutely no time to study for them, and barely has, except for that “study” session he had with Craig last week.

“They don’t even know about the play, man.”

“Oh.”

“It’s fine. I don’t want them here anyways. I don’t want them in my life at all. I prefer it this way.” Tweek can tell by the expression on Craig’s face that he doesn’t quite believe him, but he doesn’t press. In order to end the conversation about his stupid parents, he asks, “Are you’re parents coming?”

“Yeah. Seeing a  _ gay  _ play full of  _ gay  _ characters definitely seems like something my dad would  _ love  _ to do.”

Tweek frowns. He honestly didn’t even think about that. “Oh,”

“It’s fine,” Craig says. “Besides, I’m literally just a stage hand. It’s not that exciting. They aren’t  _ supposed  _ to see me.”

“Stage hands are important too! You do a lot for the play.”

“Not as much as you,” Craig argues with a small grin, eyeing him with a glimmer in his hazel irises.

  
Tweek smiles at him in return. He wishes he could just lean over and kiss him, but sadly they are in public. This thought manifests into disappointment. Every emotion lately just feels so heightened for some reason. 

Shortly after, the director comes onto stage and begins to discuss the plans for the long day.

  
  


x.

  
  


As the final day before opening show arrives, Tweek’s anxiety soars. 

It’s the dress rehearsal today and they are going through the entire play from beginning to end. Tweek feels like he is going to mess something up, but it surprisingly goes really well. 

He feels a mix of nerves and excitement as the opening show approaches.

After the dress rehearsal, the group goes out to get a late dinner at Denny’s. Tweek notices how Craig sort of goes into himself under the social situation. He supposes that he’s always noticed this about him, but more so now as he and a couple others stay remotely quiet during group discussion.

  
He also notices the way his expression changes when he laughs or gushes about something with Bridon. His jealousy would further annoy him if he wasn’t so cute. Also, Tweek cannot imagine watching Craig make-out with another person on a regular basis, so he gets it.

Some girl from his class asked him, “You’re friends with Craig, right? Is he talking to anyone?” and it furiously pissed Tweek off. He supposes this is one of the problems of keeping their relationship secret. It’s not like he can tell Bridon that he is dating Craig, but ever since Bridon noticed his  _ crush  _ on Craig, he’s sort of simmered down the flirting.

When Craig gets up to use the bathroom, Tweek trails behind him.

  
  


He waits outside the bathroom door. He thinks public bathrooms are pretty fucking gross, so has no intention in going inside without it being necessary. 

When Craig steps outside the door and sees the blonde, his eyes widen. “Are you stalking me?” he asks. 

“Yes,” Tweek says. “Do you wanna come outside with me to smoke?”

“Sure, but I don’t condone it,” 

“Okay,” Tweek lets out a laugh.

They walk outside, and behind the building. Tweek glances around to make sure no one is looking, and then wraps his hands around the taller boy’s lips, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Craig is surprised by the kiss, truly expecting Tweek to pull out a smoke. Although, he likes this much better.

He pulls his arms around his boyfriend, bringing him closer and kissing him deeply in return.

They stand outside in the back of Denny’s for a good ten-minutes, making out, before Tweek pulls away and grins at him, rather breathless. “Figured I’d do that before I smoke and taste gross.”

Craig laughs. “You taste fine, always.”

Tweek shrugs and pulls away, bringing the pack out of his pocket and the lighter out of the other. He brings the cigarette to his lips and flicks the lighter awake. 

Craig watches him, fascinated by most of what Tweek Tweak does, and how he performs the action so smoothly and effortlessly, like he’s done it a hundred times before. He probably has. 

  
“You know, as hot as you look doing that, you’re really kind of fucking yourself over,”

Tweek cracks a smile at him at this, cigarette still in his mouth. “Says the person who smokes weed all the time.”

“… It’s different.”

“Uh huh,” Tweek looks off and puffs out a bit of smoke. 

“Besides, you do too.”

“May as well fuck my lungs up in more way than one.”

“I guess, but… I don’t know. They’ve done a lot of studies, and cigarettes are a  _ lot  _ worse on your lungs than weed. It’s the chemicals and shit. Not to mention it’s way more addictive.”

Tweek wonders if Craig realizes that his self-care is his lowest priority. He never gets enough sleep, drinks way too much caffeine, pulls out his hair, takes way too hot of showers, forgets to eat, forgets his medication, forgets his homework,  _ smokes.  _ Self-care is just not something  _ he  _ cares about, but he figures if he says this, Craig will probably get upset, so he doesn’t. “Yeah, yeah,” he shrugs. “But I don’t know. It’s kind of fucking hard to stop.”

Craig sighs and looks away. He hates to upset him like this. He hates to see him sigh, but not enough to put out the cigarette. He eyes him and waits for his eyes to return to him.

“I feel… guilty.”

“About what? Me smoking?”

“Yes.”

Tweek twists his eyebrows. “It’s not your fault.”

“I mean… isn’t it kind of?” Craig eyes him. 

Tweek shoves his eyebrows together further. “No?”

“If I just figured out and fessed up my feelings earlier — or maybe if I just didn’t stop being your friend — maybe, you wouldn’t have started to hang out with the goth kids, and you wouldn’t have started.”

Tweek is kind of surprised Craig even mentions or remembers this. He told him this so long ago. He frowns. “It’s, literally, not your fault at all! Or even… the goth kids, or Pete… it was my decision.”

Craig frowns. “I guess, but I just… I don’t know. I just… I want to see you live a long life.”

Tweek smiles. Most of the time he disagrees with the statement, but right now, staring into the eyes of the boy he loves, he agrees. He sighs, and puts out his cigarette. He doesn’t know if he will actually go through with trying to quit, but he figures he can at least put  _ this  _ one out.

After he puts it out, and it cools off, he shoves it into his pocket because it’s not one of the ones that are biodegradable. Craig’s brows burrow at the action. “What the fuck? Did you just put that in your pocket? Are you saving it?”

“Oh, no, I just don’t want to litter…” Tweek says, stepping closer to him. He raises a smile. “That’s a good idea though.”

“I would be more mad about the second comment if you weren’t the most adorable fucking person on the entire planet,” Craig states, grabbing both of his hands into his own.   
  


Tweek blushes. “That can’t be true because I’m  _ looking  _ at that person.”

Craig grins and steps forward to peck his lips. Tweek kisses him back and then says, “You are so shy and jealous and adorable.”

Craig narrows his eyes on the blonde, frowning. “Not jealous, but I’ll allow the other two.”

Tweek giggles and presses another kiss to lips. “Good. Because you have nothing to be  _ jealous _ of.”

But Tweek supposes the statement isn’t true. He and Bridon can kiss in  _ public  _ while he and Craig have to go behind Denny’s. He doesn’t mention that though as he pulls away and they decide to head back inside — almost gone for twenty minutes now.

When they go back inside, they both revert to their previous positions; it feels as if they are living in a completely different world.

X.

On the day of the play, Tweek can hardly concentrate on anything; his mind solely on  _ what if he messes up. What if he forgets his lines. What if he has a panic attack on stage. What if he trips and falls in front of the entire school. _

But despite his anxieties, he feels excited.

He decides he is glad to do this. He is proud of himself even, and decides his brain is  _ stupid  _ and needs to  _ shut up. _

It feels like a battle between him and his brain the whole day, but he is determined to win against the intrusive thoughts.

  
  
  


Before the opening show, Craig stops by his house to give him a stupidly cute 7 chakra bead bracelet that is right up Tweek’s alley. Tweek throws his arms around him and places a sloppy kiss over his lips, saying, “I love you so much.”

He wishes he could say or do much to show how much he means that. He wants to give  _ him  _ something too. He slips the bracelet on his wrist. He knows he will have to take it off during the  _ actual  _ performance, but it gives him solace, now.

He will probably have Craig hold it for him during the show, as he does not trust himself to place it somewhere he will remember or his pocket to keep it safe.

Shortly after, Clyde picks them both up from Tweek’s house, and brings them to the school.

  
  


X.

It’s nerve racking and stifling to see an audience behind the curtains, but Craig, along with the rest of the crew, encourages him. 

He thinks it will be different when he gets on stage than the rehearsals, and it is, but not in the way he thought. It’s better. He feels  _ alive —  _ more alive than any other time before. It’s exhilarating and empowering. He’s never felt so sure of himself.

When the play is over, he is sad, but they still have three more rehearsals over the weekend, and he feels substantially less nervous about them.

  
He bows to the audience and they  _ roar. _

He feels so incredibly  _ alive. _

X.

This feeling continues through the rest of the weekend; that exhilaration feeling like a high of sorts. He wishes to feel this way all the time, to somehow grab onto this confidence and manifest it into the rest of his life. He feels most himself on stage. He feels like this is where he  _ belongs. _

  
  


On the last show, after the audience roars and applauds, he kisses Craig backstage once all the ruckus is over. He  _ thinks _ everyone has left the auditorium. The kiss is deep, passionate and long. He rubs his hands all over the other male’s body, and decides what he wants to give him in return for the bracelet.

“Come over tonight,” Tweek murmurs against his boyfriend’s mouth. “My parents are still gone, and we don’t have school tomorrow because of winter break…” Craig continues to kiss him, past the words. “And I want you.”

Craig stops at this, pulling away to look him in the eyes. 

“Like  _ fully, _ ” Tweek breathes out heavily, amber eyes flickering against hazel.

“Like…  _ What?”  _ Craig swallows. “Like…  _ Anal?” _

“Yes,” Tweek confirms with a smile. “Like …  _ that,”  _ he kisses him again. He drags his lips across his neck and to his earlobe. “Would you  _ like  _ to fuck me?” He asks.

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Craig groans, dipping his head back as Tweek continues to nibble across his neck. He is sure Tweek is giving him a hickey, but he absolutely doesn’t care in the slightest. He sucks in a breath, “do you even have to ask that question?”

Tweek breathily laughs against the hot and wet flesh of his neck, eyeing the male with lustful eyes. “Affirmative consent is important, man. Don’t you remember health class in fifth grade?”

Craig laughs, dipping back his head a moment before letting out a deep sigh and connecting his eyes with Tweek again. “I tried to block out that entire lesson.”

“Well, luckily, I remember,” Tweek smirks and presses his lips to the other males.

They kiss for a moment longer, before running out of the auditorium, eager to get to Tweek’s empty house.

  
  


Too focused on each other, they fail to notice the pair of angry eyes that saw them.

_ X. _

  
  


Clyde drops them off at the Tweak residence, whining about  _ no invite.  _ Craig just flips him off in response to this, and Tweek stays quiet, the only thing on his mind being how much he wants Craig.

When they get behind closed doors, Tweek immediately trots up the staircase and Craig follows. Tweek goes to his parents’ room and Craig is  _ horrified. _

__

“Okay… it’s fine if you’re into kinky shit, Tweek, but I am  _ not  _ fucking in your parents’room.”

“WHAT!?” Tweek turns around in shock as he enters his parents’ room. “ _ GROSS!  _ What the  _ fuck!  _ No!  _ Jesus Christ,  _ I’m getting lube and condoms.”

Craig stands in the doorway, bright red and embarrassed. He rubs a hand over the nape of his red neck and looks to the carpet. “Thank God.”

“You’re fucking gross, man,” Tweek calls back as he opens the drawer of the bedside table, “like what are  _ you  _ into?”

“I’m… not… fuck. Okay. I’m sorry... Fuck. My bad.”

Tweek grabs the strawberry flavored lube out of the dresser drawer along with a condom and saunters back over to the embarrassed male in the doorway. Tweek shakes his head at him, “What the fuck do you think  _ I’m  _ into?! You think I’m that much of a freak!?”

“No.”

“You’re fucking  _ — gross,”  _ Tweek shakes his head, eyes shut.

__

“Did I ruin this?” Craig dares to ask, picking his head up to look the blonde in his amber eyes.

The blonde sucks in a breath. “No. But just —,” he pushes him in the chest, moving him out of the doorway, “can we  _ please  _ just go to  _ my _ room?”

Craig stumbles back and Tweek brushes past him, eager to get away from his parents’ room

. Craig follows him with his head down, still feeling  _ incredibly  _ awkward, and not knowing what the  _ fuck  _ he can say to make this conversation better. So, he stays silent as he follows the other male, and closes the door to Tweek’s room, even though they are the only ones there.

In attempt to recover, he says, “Okay, well in  _ my  _ defense, I feel like you’re into some pretty kinky shit.”

Tweek still looks annoyed but softens slightly, stepping over to him. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

Craig swallows, eyeing him. His smirk is so undeniably sexy. He seriously cannot think of a single sexier person in existence. “You tell me.”

“What if I want you to guess?”

Craig smirks and grabs his wrists to pull him forward. He stares down at his slightly startled eyes before pressing his lips into the other male’s. Tweek kisses him back tentatively, wrapping his arms around the other’s male’s neck and kissing him deeply with tongue.

Tweek gasps when Craig picks him up. Craig walks them to his bed and throws him onto it, crawling over him and placing their lips together once more.

“I don’t hear any guesses,” Tweek pulls away with a smirk.

Craig rolls his eyes. “I don’t like guessing games.”

Tweek laughs and shakes his head. “Well, how about we just stick to vanilla sex for now, and maybe after we figure that out, I’ll show you my browsing history.”

Craig laughs breathily at this. “Looking forward to it,” he breathes, kissing the blonde again.

After a sensual kiss, he pulls away and grins, removing his shirt. Tweek gazes at the other male’s body, immediately in awe of it. It’s not like Craig has much muscle or anything; more so lanky, as he is too lazy to play sports or work out, but he still has naturally broad shoulders and smooth skin. Tweek reaches out to place his palm over his chest, “How have a seen your dick but not you shirtless until now?” Tweek asks, staring at his chest.

“Because you freaky, I told you,”

Tweek shakes his head with a laugh and glances up at him. They gaze at one another a moment longer before Tweek follows his actions and removes his shirt as well, Craig’s eyes immediately locking onto his much more  _ toned  _ body.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” he mumbles before attaching his lips to the crook of the blonde’s neck.

Tweek giggles at the compliment. Shivers run up his spine as Craig connects his hands over his bare ribcage. 

“Like, fuck, how are you so hot?” Craig inches away to look down at his shirtless boyfriend some more.

“I kept up with boxing in case I needed to fight you again,”

Craig flicks his eyes up at him with an amused smirk, “Really?”

“No — I mean,  _ yeah,  _ I kept up with the boxing. Sometimes. It’s helpful with my anxiety.”

Craig nods.

“Sorry, I feel like that’s like… a  _ damper.” _

__

“No, no, no, baby, not at all,” Craig cups Tweek’s face in his hands. Tweek smiles at him and Craig moves forward to connect their lips again. Tweek runs his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair and presses their bare chests together, his heart rate quickening and dick hardening as their kissing continues.

When the tightness in his pants becomes too much, he pulls away, and removes his pants and briefs to reveal his boner. Craig admires him a moment before doing the same, and even though the dark-haired male just shrugs his clothes off casually, Tweek decides it’s the sexiest thing  _ ever,  _ especially when his hard cock is out as well.

“Are you sure you want to do this still?”

“Uh, do you  _ see _ my cock?” Tweek smirks, cocking an eyebrow.

Craig chuckles, “Affirmative consent… did you  _ not  _ attend fifth grade health class? Wow, Tweek. You really missed out on some  _ vital  _ information.

Tweek shakes his head and licks his lips, “I very much give you my affirmative consent to fuck me.”

Craig’s dick throbs at the words, but throbs even more when Tweek grabs the forgotten lube and hands it to his boyfriend. Craig swallows the dryness in his throat as he takes the bottle of  _ strawberry  _ lube in his hand. 

Tweek kisses him once more before lying flat on his stomach and lifting up his ass in the air. Craig freezes at the sight, his dick throbbing wildly. He doesn’t know how he is going to possibly last  _ whatsoever  _ when just the  _ sight  _ of Tweek’s ass in the air brings forth pre-cum.

He sucks in a breath and climbs back onto the bed onto his knees, opening the strawberry lube and squirting it onto his finger. “So…” Craig sucks in a breath, “should I just… like squirt it on your ass, or like, put it on my  _ finger  _ first? In all the gay porn I’ve watched within the last two weeks I haven’t seen anyone… actually  _ apply  _ the lube.”

“Reasons you should pay attention in health class,” Tweek quips with a shake of his head. 

“They did  _ not  _ teach about this,”

Tweek laughs, “Yeah, they didn’t but, I dunno, both?”

Craig listens and applies the lube both over the crack of his boyfriend’s ass, and onto his finger. Tweek sort of jerks as he squirts the lube onto him. The whole thing is so fucking hot that Craig is seriously beginning to wonder if he will just come the moment the tip of his cock touches the entrance of his boyfriend’s asshole.

Craig licks his lips, staring down at his boyfriend’s full, plump, beautiful ass before saying, “Okay… I’m about to put my finger in.”

“Mmm, ‘kay.”

Craig sucks in a breath, his heart feeling as if it’s about to explode, and grazes his finger between his boyfriend’s ass cheeks. The pit in his stomach intensifies and Tweek makes a quiet, tiny whimper. He swipes his finger around the rim slightly before entering. Tweek’s body jerks at the action, and Craig immediately goes, “Is this okay?”

“Mmm, yeah,”

“Okay…” his breath hitches. 

He finally understands why Clyde was so fucking obsessed with sex with Bebe. Well, maybe he got that after the blow job exchange with Tweek. He isn’t sure. All he knows is that this is so fucking hot that he wonders how he ever thought he was into women.

He pushes his finger in farther. Unfortunately, he  _ has  _ fingered a girl before, and she seemed to like it, so he uses the same technique. Sort of. It’s  _ much  _ tighter than a pussy though, and  _ infinitely  _ hotter. Tweek’s tiny whimpers and moans, along with the slight jerk of his shoulders and back make it even  _ more so. _

__

“Okay… uh, I think, you can enter another…”

“Uh, okay,” 

Craig pulls his finger away and applies more lube to his index finger and now middle finger. He sucks in a breath as he looks down at his boyfriend’s ass. 

“Turn over,”

“Huh?”

Craig rolls his eyes, too impatient, so he just grabs onto his boyfriend and flips him over himself. Tweek meets his eyes with an intake of breath. “Oh, um, hi.”

“Hi,” Craig says before moving his hand forward and inserting his two fingers back into the other male. He watches his face contort and eyes shut as he does so, sounds moving out of his parted mouth. As hot as his  _ ass  _ is, his face while he is doing this is even more-so.

Tweek flutters his sultry eyes open, his mouth hanging open, and  _ fuck,  _ it’s so hot. 

“You are so fucking hot,” Tweek tells him, which only makes it worse.

“I was just thinking the same thing.”

Tweek grins but his grin slowly crumbles and contorts as Craig pushes his fingers in farther. His eyes shut and Craig presses his lips against Tweek’s mouth, and then collarbone, and then neck. “Fuck, I love you so goddamn much.”

“I love you,” Tweek breathes out in a gasp, “ah, put another finger in.”

Craig does as he is told, lubricating his third finger before doing so. He inserts them, moving them around and watching the way Tweek reacts to the different movements, his whimpers all sounding like moans now.

“Fuck — fuck, okay, I’m ready.”

“You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He pulls back his fingers and looks for the condom, but Tweek finds it first, opening it for him and handing it to him. Craig captures it quickly and puts it on, his impatience reaching its peak. He hovers over the other male, watching his facial movements.

“So I should put it in?” Craig asks.

“That is how anal works, I believe,”

Craig rolls his eyes and swallows. He adjusts his body over the other male’s and looks at him one more time before slipping the head of his cock in between the blonde’s asscheeks. Tweek bites onto his lip, his eyes squeezing shut as the tip of Craig’s head touches his entrance.

“Fu—uck,” Craig sputters out.

Tweek lets out a small whimper, “Go further,” he says.

Craig obeys and pushes forward, feeling his entire body tremble as he does so. He wants to open his eyes to look at how hot he knows Tweek looks, but he can’t. Physically cannot, and also probably shouldn’t because he predicts the vision will send him into an instant orgasm.

Tweek lets out a loud moan as he goes in fully. The sound is equally hot as every single other thing Tweek does. If he let himself go, he could and definitely  _ would  _ come, but out of embarrassment and desire to please his partner further, he forces himself to keep it together. 

“It feels good?” Craig murmurs.

“ _ Yes.” _

__

“Okay, good,”

Craig begins to push back and forth, keeping his cock inside him, even though he is desperate to pull it all the way out and force himself back inside again. He goes in slow movements at first, but steadily picks up the pace.

With the heightened pace though, he really begins to unravel. He grabs a hold of Tweek’s cock and begins to pump him off to the same movements. Then, with a couple more pumps, his breathing changes. He releases his load into the condom and lets out a whine of pleasure.

A moment or so later of jerking Tweek off, he feels hot, sticky lava run over his hands. He continues to move back and forth inside Tweek until he goes completely soft and pulls out. He rolls onto his side, and closes his eyes, breathing heavily. He drapes his arm over the blonde and keeps his legs crossed over Tweek’s.

He pulls off the condom with a large exhale and throws it to the floor to dispose of later.

He feels Tweek’s hands on his hip and he opens his eyes to a beautiful smile on his boyfriend’s face. 

“Fuck,” Craig breathes out a round of chuckles.

Tweek scoots closer to him and buries his head into his chest. Craig rubs his back, still trying to regain his breathing. “That was amazing.”

“You enjoyed it?”

Tweek laughs, “Uh,  _ yes _ ?! It was fucking… incredible.”

“It wasn’t too short?”

Tweek chuckles. “It was pretty quick, but… I was expecting as much.”

Craig pulls him closer to him, wrapping one arm under his waist. He filters his fingers into his hair, and grins mindlessly. “Sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Tweek murmurs with a puff of laughter. “I’d probably be just the same.”

“Well, maybe next time we can test that out…” Craig thoughtfully murmurs.

Tweek grins, “Mmm, when’s next time?”

Craig chuckles, “Hopefully very soon.”

The two cuddle and giggle for the next hour and a half. Craig texts his parents that he is sleeping over at Clyde’s and the two fall asleep shortly after, having no idea what the next day will bring.


	29. Sinking Feeling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, just wanted to say thanks for all the support! I haven’t been able to respond yet to your comments, but just know I’ve read every single one. I’m very grateful for the feedback.

The morning after is somewhat close to perfection. He wakes up and the first thing he sees is his favorite person in the world; the person who brings him joys like no others; the high in all his lows.

He wants to lay here forever, but when he looks at his phone, which was previously on _do not disturb,_ he sees he has 3 missed calls and 4 text messages from his father. His father has the week off for Christmas. It’s only 8 am, and Craig wonders why on _earth_ his father would be up so early on a day off, let alone bothering him.

  
He sees the first call was at 7:02 am. The second at 7:14 am. The third at 7: 18 am.

He opens the messages and glances over them, the lightness he felt previously turning into a sinking feeling.

**DAD:** Call me back.

**DAD:** Come home when you see this.

**DAD:** We need to talk.

**DAD:** Please call me.

The sinking feeling turns into something closer to something between eternal dread and illness. He has no idea what his father could be so heated about aside from one thing; that _thing_ laying right next to him.

Tweek remains asleep, tucked into his side and looking rarely peaceful in his slumber. Craig swallows.

He doesn’t want to wake him, or worry him, or cause any ill harm.

He has no idea what he would say if he woke him up, so instead, he crawls out from bed, and writes out a note to leave on his bedside table. After collecting his scattered clothing, he tip toes out of the bedroom and into the hallway. Once there, he pulls on his clothing and heads out from the comfort of his boyfriend’s presence and into the harsh, real world.

He is not ready for whatever is about to come. He has not prepared himself for this outcome. He tries to tell himself it’s not what he think it is, but what else could it be?

The walk seems shorter today as he dreads and hates every step.

When he gets to his own residence, he takes in a deep breath before stepping onto the porch and pulling out his key. As he does so, his father opens the door, as if he had been waiting for him this whole time. He probably has.

His father looks… almost _nervous._ Almost _sick._ The look is worse than the look of anger Craig predicted. The look makes every feeling of shame inside him feel validated. Perhaps his father is right and he is just a disgusting homosexual.

  
He hangs his head low as he walks inside. He swallows the crushing fear that runs up his throat as says, “what’s with the grand entrance?”

“Craig, _uh,_ sit down.”

Craig inhales sharply through his nose. His father sounds as if he is trying to sound stern but just so _uncomfortable._ His stomach churns as he walks over to the couch. He plops down, staring down to his adidas sneakers.

“So… um,” his father starts.

Craig wishes his mother had the week off as well, but since she works at the bank, they only granted her Christmas Eve and Christmas Day off. Hell, he even wishes _Tricia_ were here — just _someone_ to diffuse this horrible, suffocating tension that hangs in the air.

“I want you to be honest with me. I heard something regarding _you_ last night…,”

Craig’s stomach drops. He keeps his head down.

His father clears his throat and coughs. Craig watches him through his eyelashes as his father paces up and down their living room. The older man inhales deeply. “And I said it _wasn’t_ true — I stood up for you towards the other guys — but, look, Craig,” his father stops in the middle of the living room. “If this Billy is lying,” _Billy — the janitor, “_ look, we could go to the principle, we could tell her that he’s going ‘round spreading these rumors about you.”

Craig inhales deeply through his nose. He feels like his whole body is going to concave as it becomes harder to breathe.

“Now, you tell me … if this is true… He said that he saw you and… some _blonde boy…”_ His father clears his throat. “He said, you two were _very_ close, and that it… was _well,_ you know,”

Craig runs a hand over his face.

“So… Is this _true?”_

Craig wants to say no. It will make his life tremendously easier to lie, but when his hand drops and he tries to speak, nothing comes out. Instead he just gasps for a bit of air and shuts his eyes shut. He just wants to go back to be laying next to Tweek.

The longest beat of existence passes before his father coughs awkwardly and says, “I knew this play was — it wasn’t good on your head. Was it that McCormick boy?”

  
Craig once again just stays silent, opening his eyes to stare at the carpet and his fathers socks once again. He would be more repulsed by the idea of ever kissing or dating Kenny if the circumstances were different. Instead, he just feels so fucking _overwhelmed_ by negativity.

“Whatever. It doesn’t matter who it is… I just… I don’t… I don’t understand, Craig. I _really_ don’t. You’ve had… girlfriends before. You’re an attractive guy, you could easily get a girl… I just… I, uh, I just… This is a _lot.”_

Craig swallows.

He agrees.

It is. _A lot._

He finally picks his head up to look at his father, although, his father just stares into space, a deep furrow in his brow and a weighted frown to his lips. “Are you… mad?” Craig asks.

“I’m just…” his father lets out a deep sigh, “I don’t understand it. This… isn’t something that I grew up with. It just… started to be _cool_ recently. It’s just hard for me to grasp why…,” he shakes his head, “I don’t know, Craig. I just… I’m definitely not _happy,_ I’ll tell you that,” his father huffs out.

Craig’s eyes drop to the floor once more. He feels a lump form in his throat.

“I mean — I just… I don’t see how you _could_ be happy about this. It just seems like you might be going through some type of _phase_ or something because of this play you’re in.”

“I… it’s not,” Craig huffs out a breath and shakes his head. He decides he _can’t_ do it.

“It’s just… not right to me,” his father says. “It’s not who you are.”

Craig closes his eyes. He has been trying to figure out himself since puberty, and now, his father just thinks he has the simple answer?

“I don’t know, Craig… I just _don’t know,”_ is the last thing his father huffs out before he stomps away.

Craig remains seated on the couch, head buried into his hands; a stubborn lump in his throat that he refuses to let out.

X.

After an hour of sulking in his room, his phone rings. He picks up the ringing device, sees it’s Tweek, and sucks in a breath before answering. After a brief greeting, Tweek says, “where did you go this morning? You could have woke me up…”

Craig opens his mouth, but once again, words fail him.

“It was just kind of shitty waking up to a note instead of _you,_ like… What the fuck is going on, Craig?”

Craig exhales. “I’m… sorry. My dad wanted me home.”

“What did he want you home for? Is everything okay?”

“Yeah. It’s fine. Look, I’ll talk to you later. Bye, Tweek.”

He hangs up before the other male has a chance to protest. Right after, he receives a text from him.

**TWEEK:** I know ur not okay. Please talk to me. What’s going on? Did I do something to upset you? Are you mad at me?

Craig frowns as he types out a response.

**CRAIG:** No, it’s not you.

**TWEEK:**? What happened?

Craig sighs, staring at the message. If he tells Tweek about his dad, Tweek is just going to freak out. Plus, he’s not ready to discuss it. He kind of just wants to shut down.

He writes out,

**CRAIG:** I just need to be alone right now.

He turns his phone on silent and sets it on his bedside table. He lays on his bed and places his hands over his chest, staring at the ceiling. He decides he is _angry._ Who the fuck is this janitor to fucking _out_ him like this? What did he ever do to _him?_

He pulls his phone to him again.

He notices a text from Tweek, but he ignores it for now, and pulls up the school website. He finds the janitors name pretty fast on the school website, as it has a name and photo for all the staff members. The janitor looks rugged and rough in his photo, quirking up a half smile, obviously unhappy to be there. _Billy Wallace._

Craig opens the forgotten social media app known as _Facebook,_ and looks him up.

  
He finds him — spotting another _disgusting_ photo of the man. He’s balding and looks a bit younger. The photo is definitely a couple of years old. His account isn’t on private so Craig is able to scroll down, spotting many _Make America Great Again_ posts, along with posts _against_ BLM. Craig scowls in disgust, shaking his head. Even though it only makes him angry, he continues to scroll. He eventually sees a post from a few weeks ago about Ben Shapiro and Harry Styles; the janitor agreeing with Ben Shapiro in his close-minded opinions about the singer’s appearance.

Craig rolls his eyes and lets out a huff of air, pulling up google and searching _Billy Wallace South Park._ He immediately finds him on some yellow pages type site that lists not only his phone number, but also his address. By the looks of it, he does not live too far actually. Google is scary.

The information is so easily accessible. It makes no sense to how easy it is to find out someone’s _address._ It’s creepy, and definitely not something he’ll be sharing with Tweek.

He puts the address into his GPS. It’s only a eleven minute walk.

He thinks it over before he shifts his legs off the bed and decides to go _look_ at the house. He doesn’t know what Tricia is up to — probably gone, as always — nor does he know where his father went off to. He doesn’t see his car when he goes down the driveway.

The weather is cold; colder than it seemed to be this morning. He feels it down his spine and through the fabric of his jeans; jeans which he wore the day before because he never changed once he got home.

He gets another text from Tweek during his walk, and he realizes he never responded to the last one. The first one reads,

**TWEEK:** if you need anything, I’m here for you <3 I love you

And the second says,

**TWEEK:** I know you struggle w/ opening up but it’s good to talk about this stuff <3 I just want you to be okay, but you have to let me help you

He inhales at the text message. It’s not like Tweek can help his father from being disgusted by him, or go back and prevent the janitor from sharing his personal information with his said disgusted father. He exits out of the messages and returns to the GPS — following the walking directions.

After a few blocks, his GPS tells him he has arrived at his destination. He picks his head up and stares at the colonial house. It looks almost exact to the ones surrounding it — as do most of the ones in South Park, except it’s a little more run down and a bit smaller.

He wonders how a janitor affords to live here.

He half-wants the janitor to step outside. He wants to scream in his face and punch him in the gut. The janitor definitely has at least 90 pounds on him with all the extra fat, but Craig is taller, and probably way more in shape. The janitor — Billy — would always heave when they had to lug pretty much _anything._

He isn’t sure how long he stands, just _staring,_ but long enough to decide he is going to get revenge on the janitor for ruining his happiness. He is going to get him back. He stares at his shitty car, and then his shitty house, and shitty mail box.

He _will_ be back.

He feels angry, angrier than he’s ever been before. A pit forms in his stomach, a snarl to his lips. Everything is on fire, and the initial shock of the situation is melting away. He opens his contacts on his phone and texts someone he has not texted in probably over a year.

He used to be sort of a bully.

He got along well with this person because he thought the shit he did was sort of funny. When he looks back now, he realizes _he_ was also a bully. While Craig had matured, this person did _not,_ and is always down for causing havoc.

**CRAIG:** hey, you want to fuck up that one janitors house with me?

He gets a response a moment later as he walks away from the residence.

**ERIC CARTMAN:** what’s in it for me?

**CRAIG:** I’ll slip in one of your weird ads on morning announcements.

Cartman is a young entrepreneur, always just coming up with random schemes to make money. Craig had fallen for a _few_ in his lifetime, but after a few terrible ones, he finally learned his lesson. Cartman still attempts to scam anyone dumb enough to fall for it though.

He is also secretly a sociopath who looks for any reason to inflict damage onto others’ lives.

**ERIC CARTMAN:** alright, deal. When is this happening? We need more people? How much destruction we talking?

Craig considers it.

**CRAIG:** The worst you can think of.

**ERIC CARTMAN:** HAHA! What did he do to you?

As smart as Cartman is at his elaborate schemes, he is also _very_ dumb.

**CRAIG:** He was talking shit about Stripe.

**ERIC CARTMAN:** lol your stupid guinea pig? Dude, Craig, you need a life.

Craig rolls his eyes, in spite of himself, and types out,

**CRAIG:** fuck off. I’ll be at your house at 9. I’ll bring some eggs.

**ERIC CARTMAN:** lmao weak dude, but DW, I got you.

Craig doesn’t question it. The janitor deserves whatever elaborate, terrible thing Cartman has planned for him.

X.

  
Craig stops at the store in town to pick up 3 dozen eggs, receiving two more concerned texts in the process. He sends Tweek an _I’m fine_ text to at least let the blonde know he’s alive. It makes the situation worse. Tweek calls him. With a sigh, he declines it.

He asked for _space_.

He is not talking about this right now.

When he gets home, he notices his father car is back. He walks inside to see his father on the couch and Tricia at the dining room table eating cereal. They both look at him with wide eyes. Craig can practically tell from the tension and weird look Tricia gives him, that she _knows._

His father doesn’t say anything to him — just turns back to face the TV again; doesn’t even ask where he was. He rolls his eyes and retreats upstairs to his room, bringing his eggs with him.

He kills the time with PS4 and scrolling through NASA’s instagram, wishing he could just fuck right off to space right now.

A few games and space videos later, he hears a light knock to his door. He knows if it was his _father,_ it would be more so _pounding._ His mother isn’t home, so from process of elimination, he figures it must be his little sister.

“Go away.”

Against his wishes, the door creaks open, revealing his dumb little sister.

“I thought I told you to fuck off,” he glares at her, looking up from the NASA post he was reading.

“You actually just said go away.”

“Hmph, same thing,” his eyes fall onto his phone.

In his peripheral vision, he can see his younger sister just standing in the doorway still. He lets out a deep breath, raising his attention to her once more. _“What.”_

She drags her feet across the room and then, without warning, throws her arms around him. He stiffens, having not received a hug from his sister in _God knows how long._ He jerks slightly in her arms, feeling emotion swell in his eyes. He blinks it away and changes direction of his stare.

She pulls back and stares.

He doesn’t meet her in the eyes.

“Uh… Thanks.”

“Yeah…,” is all she says. She turns around and walks to the door. Before she exits, she looks back and says, “I think it’s cool you’re into dudes, by the way.”

He blinks a couple times, then finally shifts his gaze over to her to spot the tiny smile decorated over lips. It’s the softest look his brat, little sister has ever given him. He can’t muster a smile back, but he says, _thanks,_ again, and Tricia leaves.

X.

His sister is not the only one who makes a visit to his room. As the afternoon turns to evening, the natural light in his room fading to darkness; the only light coming from his TV screen, another knock comes to his door.

He checks his phone — sees it’s past 5, and knows it’s his mom.

“Go away,” he says as he did before.

Like Tricia, his mom doesn’t listen and steps inside.

To his dismay, she flips on the light switch, making him wince and cover his eyes. “Ugh, a warning next time would be nice...” he groans from his spot on his bed. He had gone back to laying down, his TV displaying one of his favorite anime’s of all time, _Full Metal Alchemist._

She closes the door behind her and walks inside, taking a seat on his bed by his midsection. He pauses the show and turns his focus to her, taking in a deep breath. His mother is a lot easier to look at than his dad.

“Honey, I don’t know what Dad said to you… but I just want you to know, that I didn’t condone any of it.”

He looks away, chewing on his lower lip. He looks at the blanket over his midsection, pulling at a loose thread.

“If you’re gay, that’s okay,” she puts a hand on his, “I promise.”

He stares at her hand on his. Once again, emotion pools at his eyes. He blinks it away and lets out a heavy sigh.

“I kind of suspected it, actually.”

He turns his head to her cautiously. _Did he hear that right? “_ What.”

“I had my suspicions… I mean I wasn’t entirely sure, but,” she sets a hand against his cheek, a tender smile to his lips. While his mother definitely hugs him more than Tricia or his father, physical affection is still seldom. His family shows affection through flipping each other off. “A mother always knows.”

His eyes swell up again and he shakes his head away so his mom’s hand falls away. He looks away. “If you knew… why did you let him…,” he shakes his head. He just feels so _angry_ and emotional. He knows his mother is being supportive, but he just doesn’t _want_ that right now. He just wants to explode. “Look, whatever, thanks.”

“Craig,”

“Please just leave me alone,” he croaks out, his eyes once again, betraying him and filling to the brim. He blinks it away, holding down the lump in his throat.

  
“Just know… I love you, honey, and so does your father… even if he isn’t acting like it.”

Craig huffs out a bit of air, feeling as though it’s incredibly hard to breath. His mother steps up from his bed, and as she leaves, a single tear falls down his cheek.

In that moment, his phone rings. He sees it’s Tweek, and immediately declines it.

X.

When 9 pm rolls around, he sneaks out of his house and meets Cartman at his house. He brings a ski mask and the 3 dozen eggs. He very surprised to see Cartman holding a brown paper bag and a lighter.

“Uh, what is that,” Craig points to the brown bag, having an inkling of what it is. He has seen _Orange is the New Black._

“What you think it is — my shit! We gonna light it on fire and leave it on his doorstep,” Cartman cackles.

It amazes Craig that Cartman has no ill intentions himself against this man, but is still willing to go all out. He supposes in this case, he is thankful for it.

They walk to his house, which is pretty close to Cartman as well, considering they all live in the same neighborhood. Once they get there, they see a couple lights are on. He and Cartman both pull on their ski masks, and Cartman sets the bag on the porch, lighting it on fire.

Once Cartman runs back, he and Craig begin to throw eggs from behind a parked car. The aim for his house, and his shitty 1991 GM Prism in the driveway. Cartman pretty much _sucks_ at throwing, but Craig used to play baseball in middle school, so he gets a variety of good shots.

  
After several throws, the janitor opens his door, and instantly begins to scream. _“Hey you — fuck!”_ He steps on the bag to put out the fire, a scream escaping his lips. Cartman bellows in laughter and the corner of Craig’s lip curl into a semi-smile.

“You fucking kids!” The man runs out onto his lawn.

He and Cartman begin to run, and even _Cartman_ is able to outrun the out-of-shape man. They run down the block and around the corner, the janitor’s yelling fading. Once they get far enough away, they stop, and Cartman bends over with laughter.

“That was _priceless_ — did you see his face? HA! He stepped in my _shit,”_

Craig inhales deeply. He expected the rage to fade with his revenge, but he still feels… awful. The emotion in his eyes gathers again. He blinks it away.

“I’ll see you later, fat boy,” he begins to walk away from the still-laughing sociopath.

“AY! I’m _big-boned.”_

Craig tears off the ski mask and hangs his head down low. The emotion once again gathers, and as much as he blinks it away, it just comes back. He looks at his phone and sees 2 missed texts from Tweek.

**TWEEK:** look, I’ve been more than cool, but you’re fucking freaking me out! Is this cuz we did anal?

**TWEEK:** you can’t just not talk to me!!!

Craig feels the emotion in his chest swell up, his throat closing again. His eyes flood and tears run down his cheeks as he types out his response.

**CRAIG:** I promise it’s not that, or you, I love you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.

He’s not sure how _true_ this is — if tomorrow he’ll be able to tell Tweek what’s going on, but he figures it at least buys him some time.

Tweek doesn’t answer though, which only makes him feel worse.

He swallows the sob. He will not sob in public. Crying is enough. He is not fucking Clyde.

He rubs his eyes with his sleeve, and tells himself he _won’t_ let it out, but then he does anyways. He lets out his sob, and suddenly, he’s wrecked. He’s doomed. He’s sobbing and crying in public, and it’s his worst nightmare.

He gathers himself, and wipes all the tears away. He just wants these negative feelings to go away. He wants to revert to this time yesterday. He wants to be safe with Tweek, but he feels like he can’t be safe, even with him, with his father knowing the truth about him.

He stabilizes himself before he gets home.

His father is on the couch. Unlike earlier, he acknowledges him with a frown. “You weren’t with that McCormick kid, were you?”

“No?” He says. “I told you — it’s not him.”

“Well, who is it then? Billy said it was the lead kid in the play, so I’m going to find out either way — so you may as well just say it now.”

“Does it matter?”

“Of course it matters!”

“Why?”

  
“Because you aren’t seeing whoever it is anymore.”  
  


“ _What_?”

“Yes, clearly, they’ve influenced your opinions —,”

“ _He_ is not the reason —,” he plants his hand against this forehead, shaking his head. He suddenly loses his voice; the previous rage he felt turning to fear. “It doesn’t work like that.”

A moment later, his mother comes down the stairs, “ _Thomas,”_ his mother calls, “ _stop_ harassing him.”

“I’m not harassing him. I’m _parenting_ him — I’m just trying to — _ugh,”_ his father shakes his head violently. “Whatever,” he throws up his hands.

Craig watches as his father grabs his jacket and brushes past him to exit the house.

  
“Thomas, where are you going?”

“Out,” his father responds.

Craig stares at the carpet, his eyes swelling again. He swears his eyes have never been so fucking lubricated in his entire life.

“Craig,” his mother sighs, “I’m sorry, honey.”

He shakes his head and heads up stairs, ready to hibernate in his room for the rest of Christmas break.

X.

The next couple days, his father avoids him — not that Craig really comes out of his room to be avoided much, anyways. His father, _does,_ however come into his room and yell about Billy’s house and lawn and shit bag, _sure_ it was Craig.

And it _was,_ but it’s not like either of them have any proof.

Nonetheless, his father grounds him, which gives him _reason_ to bail on Tweek.

He texts him a bit more, but keeps it short. He tries to keep it up as if everything is _good._ He does not want to worry his boyfriend, even though he is sure he is beyond frantic. For three days, he asks Craig what’s going on, and on the fourth, the day right before Christmas Eve, he _demands_ to know what’s going on.

**CRAIG:** meet me at Stark’s pond in 30.

**TWEEK:** fine

Craig sneaks out, as his father has gone out somewhere. He has no idea what to tell Tweek, only knowing that if he doesn’t say something to him, the blonde will probably have a full-on meltdown.

When he sees Tweek, they do not hug, or kiss, or anything a couple would do. Instead Tweek just stares at him with a distraught expression and drawn in brows.

Craig swallows at his expression.

He’s not sure he can take this. He suddenly regrets coming at all as he stares into those sad amber irises. He has no idea what to say to him, other than he has been swallowed by a black hole of misery and self-sorrow. He both fears and hates his father, all the while _desperate_ for his approval and affection. Craig is terrible at handing one emotion, let alone a whole dozen of them. He has no idea how to process. No idea how to fucking regulate. His family was never good with this shit. They never _talked_ through their feelings.

“Craig, what’s been going on?” Tweek demands.

He sucks in a breath and stares at the sun. It’s a really _nice_ day. Tweek only wears a striped red, green and white sweater, not that that means much. He hardly ever dresses accordingly for the cold.

He pushes a hand through the top of his hair, and swallows before saying, “that janitor saw us… and told my dad.”

When he peers to look at Tweek, his mouth hangs open.

“Craig,” Tweek gasps, rushing over to him, and enveloping him into a tight hug. “I’m sorry — why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, pulling away to cup his face into his hands.

Craig stares sorrowfully. He feels his dumb ass broken eye balls sting again. He’s been acting like Clyde so much that they actually _itch_ from incessant irritation. He blinks and looks down. “I just… I don’t want to talk about it,”

“But,”

“Tweek, I really… I just… can’t,”

He swallows.

He feels Tweek’s eyes on him still. He can’t take it, so he pushes him away. He fights a tear from falling down his cheek. He turns away and stares at the frozen over pond. He half-wishes to run out there, break the ice, and fall in.

“Craig…”

He sucks in a breath. He knows Tweek is not going to let this go, but Craig cannot fucking take it. He cannot take _any_ of it. He just wants to shut down and never have to worry about explaining his feelings again. He just feels fucking _terrible_ , and he knows his parents aren’t talking either. He’s fucking ruining his whole family just because he likes dudes.

It’s stupid, it’s so fucking stupid, and yet, those plentiful of emotions eat at him. Guilt wrecks away his logic. It’s his fault. He is the problem. He is the disgusting, wrong homosexual, in desperate need of his dumb, homophobic father’s approval.

His eyes sting again.

He just wants everything to go back to normal. Maybe even the normal before Tweek. Maybe he was miserable, but at least it was a _tolerable_ -miserable, instead of battling the urge to fucking break down every minute of the day.

With this thought, he breathes in, and says, “maybe we should take a break.”

“… what do you mean?”

He stares at the frozen pond, looking at the foot prints that some kids have left behind in the snow. “I just … I need to be alone right now,” he swallows, “and with my dad… I just think that, maybe, he’d come around if we weren’t _together.”_

“Are you serious?” Tweek’s voice is tight and compact. He can’t bare to look at him, fearing that he’s caused emotion to pool in not only his own eyes, but Tweek’s too.

“I just… I think it’s for the best,”

“For what? You?”

“No, just… everyone,”

“How?”

He inhales sharply through his nose, eyes on the skate marks on the frozen pond.

“Are you at least going to _look_ at me?” Tweek asks, voice so tight that Craig just knows the blonde’s own throat is closing too. He turns to face him. His cheeks and nose are red and his eyes are wide and watery. He wears a deep, pouting frown. It makes Craig’s heart break.

  
He shakes his head, hopelessly. “I just think… if we wait it out…”

“Wait for _what_?” Tweek prompts. “For your _dad_ to come around? How … how the hell are we supposed to know when _that_ happens?”

Craig sighs and drops his head again, gaze falling to Tweek’s winter boots. “I don’t know… I just… I really don’t know.”

“That’s not fucking helpful, man!” Tweek nearly shouts. “Craig, you can’t let him decide on whether or not _you_ get to be happy. Aren’t you happy with me? Don’t you _love_ me?”

“Yes, but,” his voice fails him. He shakes his head. “It’s complicated.”

“It’s _not_ — you can _be_ with me, you can be happy, and you can just — wait for him to come around, but not make yourself miserable in the process,”

“I’m miserable now,” Craig argues, eyes still on Tweek’s boots. “He won’t even fucking look at me, and when he does — it’s _worse._ It’s just… disgust. I just want to —,” he drags in a sharp breath, “I just want things to go back to normal.”

“Craig, I know it must suck to be outed, but,” Tweek steps forward, “please, don’t do this,” he places a hand on the raven-haired-boy’s cheek. “Please. For you. For me. For us. Don’t fucking do this.”

Craig flips his eyes open to the blonde. He spots the tear falling down his cheek, and he wipes it away, but Tweek immediately flinches back, wiping his own tears instead of letting Craig do it. “Don’t — Just don’t touch me, unless you’re planning on staying with me,”

Craig opens his mouth, once again to be met by the failure of words. He dips his chin into his chest, biting his lip, eyes on his own boots.

“I’m not — I’m not _doing_ this, Craig. If you want a _break,_ then… That’s it. We’re through, because I don’t have the emotional energy to wait around and see what happens.”

The silence of the pond and forest dawn on him — the moment incredibly eerie, until Craig finally breaks it with, “I’m sorry, Tweek.”

And suddenly, the silence gets worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry :/


	30. Shitty New Year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, we’re really close to the end! :O
> 
> Thanks so much to everyone who reads, reviews, kudos, and so on! This story has been! A lot. I have channeled a lot of my own personal pains and sufferings onto these boys from being closested and having homophobic parents. While I know sometimes Craig’s (or Tweek’s) actions may seem... harsh or dumb, or whatever, please understand that it’s VERY hard to be LGBT within a homophobic environment. 
> 
> Anyways, I thank you AGAIN. For the ongoing support. I did not think this would ever grab such a crowd, and I thank you all. (:

Tweek walks home with water in his eyes and a chest vast with doubt. He wonders if he did the right thing. It had to be the right thing, right? There is no way he could continue to indulge in that. Craig broke up with him, and he was not going to let his anxiety convince him it was the other way around. Craig wants him to wait around, for a possibly an eternity, until he is ready. How the hell is Tweek supposed to do that? The uncertainty would kill him.

He half-expected to hear Craig say _stop, wait, don’t go,_ but no, Craig just let him walk away.

Tweek feels sick.

He doesn’t know why he expected this to go any different. Of course, he would end up hurt. Of course, this would end up like this. Why did he expect anything else? It’s his luck. It’s his life. Things always turn into the very worst possible scenario he feared. People always think he is so paranoid, yet, more than half the time he is _right_ with outcomes.

He doesn’t even see himself as a pessimist. He sees himself as a realist.

He should have predicted this. He should have _known._ He feels so stupid and worthless.

He understands Craig is _struggling,_ but Jesus Christ, what is breaking up with him going to do? Make him less gay? No. Tweek doesn’t get it — nor will he ever. He just feels so _angry_ and sad _and_ ugh.

He wants to hate him, but he can’t because past his hurt, he gets it. _Somewhat_.

Tweek pulls out a cigarette and lights it as he walks home. When he flicks it out, he doesn’t bother putting the bud in his pocket. He is too exhausted to be a good person.

X.

Tweek gives Craig an hour and one sob session before he decides to text Kenny that Craig broke up with him. Kenny _immediately_ responds,

**KENNY:** Meet me at the village inn? Breakfast on me?

**TWEEK:** sure

Tweek stumbles to the breakfast diner. He doesn’t come here often, as Pete and his friends usually dine here, and he does his best to avoid them. He wonders if he will avoid Craig’s locations too; not that Craig particularly hangs out _anywhere_. He is more so a homebody, like Tweek. Or — likes going in the meadows, or nature, also like Tweek.

  
The thought plagues him.

He feels so much more immensely worse about being dumped by Craig than Pete. The reason is somewhat understandable, not that he’ll admit it. Pete broke up with him for being a _conformist,_ which Tweek is not, but _what-fucking-ever._

He spots Kenny in one of the booths already, making a pyramid of cream cups, as he does. It normally makes Tweek smile, but he’s sure smiles are off the table today. He drags his feet to the booth, sliding inside, and murmuring out a greeting.

“You wanna knock this over? It may help you get out your frustrations,” Kenny offers, holding a hand out to it as if to show it off.

  
Tweek just shakes his head; sure that his eyes are still fucking watering because _fuck him._

“Okay, well, then I’ll do it for you,” he says, knocking over the pyramid, “there you go.”

Tweek sighs, “I’m… not in the mood.”

“Aw, hon, come here,” Kenny scoots over on the circular bench to meet him in the middle. Tweek moves over so Kenny can entrap him in a hug, but it fails to fill the hollowness in his chest. He wipes his eyes, feeling the wetness and he hates himself more for it.

“I already ordered you some coffee, honey,” Kenny tells him, running a hand through his unkempt hair.

“Thanks,” Tweek moves away from Kenny and back to his normal position. Kenny stays in close proximity to him, not moving much further back to his side.

“So, what happened?”

Tweek shrugs, picking up the silverware rolled in a napkin. He unravels it and the cheap silverware falls to the table. It begins to rip up the paper, needing something to do with his hands. He stares at the paper as he shreds it, “his dad found out.”

“What?”

Tweek rips the paper more, glaring at it. “ _Yeah,_ ” he huffs out.

“So, what… did his dad, like, _make_ him break up with you?”

“How the hell should I know,” Tweek just offers, with a light shrug. “He’s fucking shit at communication.”

Kenny sighs and puts a hand on his shoulder, “honey, look, I know it’s rough right now, but … I think Craig will change his mind.”

“ _Fuck_ him,” Tweek picks his head up to glare at the blonde. “I’m done dealing with it — I just. I can’t anymore. He pisses me off.”

The waitress comes around with Tweek’s coffee and Kenny’s orange juice. Kenny winks at her, saying, _thanks, doll face, just give us a moment, okay?_ which the middle-aged woman just shakes her head and rolls her eyes to, walking away with a swing to her hips.

“Okay… so, yeah… you’re mad at him… that’s normal.”

“I’m just _infuriated._ Ugh. We had,” Tweek glances around, “ _like…_ sex- _sex.”_

Kenny squints his eyes. “What?”

“Anal.”

“Oh,” Kenny nods, lips parted. “You did not tell me this, Tweek.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been having a fucking mental breakdown because Craig just ditched me the morning after, and then the next time I fucking see the asshole, he breaks up with me. Like, fucking fantastic. I love getting fucked, just to get fucked again _right after_ ,”

There is a pause.

“So… you bottomed?”

Tweek rolls his eyes and lets out a huff.

  
“Look, I’m kidding — sorry, look,” Kenny frowns, “I get it. I do. It sucks, but… I mean. I _genuinely_ think he’ll come around.”

Tweek shakes his head. All the paper has fallen from his hands now, so he picks up the pieces on the table and begins to rip _those._ “I just feel like an idiot.”

“You shouldn’t though! He loves you, Tweek,” Kenny offers. “I knew that before you two even got together — member? Trust _Kenny_.”

“I don’t care,” Tweek blinks, “he broke up with me.”

Kenny pouts. He reaches out and rubs the other blonde’s shoulder, “yeah… yeah you’re right, but like… I mean… it’s only because of his dad, right?”

“It doesn’t matter.”  
  


“Of course it does,” Kenny argues. “He’s just… going through it.”

Tweek stares at the giant collection of napkin shreds. “Well… I could have gone through it _with_ him, but no, instead he just _pushes_ me away.” Tweek squeezes his eyes shut, “he always does this. It’s just,” he breathes out, “so fucking _exhausting.”_

_“_ I know, babe, he’s the _worst,_ and I think _no one_ deserves Tweek Tweak, but… I mean… Maybe he will change his mind.”

“I can’t just _wait_ around for that.”

“I’m not _saying_ to…”

“I already _loved_ him for _years,_ ” Tweek says, “I’ve been _more_ than patient, and when I _finally_ ask him to take this step with me — to just fucking not _leave_ me, he can’t do that?”

Tweek can tell by Kenny’s contoured facial expression that he feels conflicted; probably on where he should place his empathy, and whether or not to use it all on Tweek. “I agree. It’s _shitty,”_ Kenny nods, “and you have _every_ right to be pissed, and upset, and _wanting to rip his dick off,”_

_“But?”_

“But … I don’t know. I want you to be happy. I want _both_ of you to be happy. And you were really happy with him.”

Tweek’s eyes drop to the table. “Well. It doesn’t matter what I want because Craig only thinks about what’s best for Craig,” his voice is ripped from emotion, the dead look in his eyes, matching his tone. “So… If you’re going to tell anyone that, tell Craig that… but also _don’t bother_ because fuck him.”

Kenny says, “I’m sorry, babe,” before the waitress comes around again and asks if they are ready. Tweek orders what he got when he came here with Pete, which is a _strawberry stuffed French Toast._ He doesn’t bother adding the sausage on the side, not wanting to make Kenny’s bill any heftier.

Kenny gets the Farmer’s Breakfast, which consists of two pancakes, two eggs, and two slices of bacon. It is _such_ an old man thing to get, which makes him think of fucking Craig. He heaves out a sigh and places his elbows onto the table, ready to just scream into his hands, although he refrains from a scream and settles with a groan; not trying to be institutionalized today.

  
“Is there anything I can do?”

“Just… give me all the weed you have,”

“Oh, honey… you’d probably die,”

Tweek pulls his hands away from his face and manages to pull a sardonic smile, “and that’s a problem?”

Kenny shakes his head with a smile. “I promise you, even if it feels like the end of the world now, it’s going to be okay… no matter what happens.”

Tweek’s eyes trail away as he nods. Everything kind of feels like the end of the world to him, but he figures Kenny will only think he’s more neurotic if he says this. Although he is dating Stan…

“Thanks,” Tweek says instead, “whatever. At least it’s Christmas break so I don’t have to see that jerk every day.”

“Hey,” a smile perks up on Kenny’s face, “there you go, already seeing the bright side of things!”

Tweek just sighs. He supposes that _is_ a plus.

X.

Christmas Eve consists of going to his uncle’s house in a Denver suburb.

Before they gather into the car to go, his father pulls him aside and says, “don’t mention any of this stuff going on with you.”

Craig just stares at him with a blank, void expression. Since his break-up with Tweek yesterday, he has just felt completely emotionally drained. He is not surprised by his father telling him this, but also, wonders why on earth his father would think that he’d ever bring up any of this stuff to his homophobic family.

“By the way. Tweek Tweak — that’s who it is, right?”

Craig just blinks at him.

“I told you I would find out,”

“Well. It’s over… so I guess you got what you wanted,” Craig speaks to the ground instead of his father before turning to hop in his mother’s minivan, less than ready for the terrible night.

X.

Christmas morning consists of an awkward unwrapping.

His father has been treating him normal again, or semi-normal since he told him about the news of the breakup. He _talks_ to him at least now and attempts conversation, but Craig isn’t in the mood. He feels sunken in; feels like the world has blurred around him and he is just walking on a sky beam, ready to fall a hundred feet down.

He doesn’t feel like he’s existing. He just feels like he is watching himself be miserable; banging on the glass to _do something_ but there is a huge fucking glass shield in his way. He’s trapped in his misery.

He texts Tweek _Merry Christmas,_ but the blonde does not respond, only making him feel worse.

X.

Tweek’s parents get him a gift-card to Tweak Bros. for Christmas, and it’s enough to throw him over the edge. He has a full-on panic attack and meltdown Christmas morning, and when he receives a _Merry Christmas_ text from the boy who broke his heart, it only makes it worse.

X.

The day after Christmas and Tweek still hasn’t answered his text.

This gnawing pit inside him won’t go away no matter _what_ he does. He tries to ignore it, but he feels it in his whole chest; the roots rotten in the pits of his stomach. Nothing feels right. _He_ doesn’t feel right, and he is so sick of these _emotions._ He hasn’t been eating much. The pit in his stomach and what feels like bile running up his throat turns him off to everything. He just _shuts down_ in his room and lets the world go on beyond him.

Clyde comes over a few days after Christmas, but even his goofy best friend has no way of reaching him. Instead, the brunette just _pisses_ him off with something dumb he says.

“You want to listen to that indie band you love? Panic in the club?”

Craig just glares at him, and says, “get out. Right now. You’re making it worse.”

Clyde stays for a brief game of rocket league afterward but Craig requests he go after. He just doesn’t want to be around anyone at the moment. This heaviness in his chest is a black hole and he’s been completely consumed by it; the gravity of it so strong that he has no way of fighting it. He just totally gives up in his efforts. No one can escape a black hole.

X.

Tweek, however, takes a different approach to the break up.

He decides that being alone is the worst possible thing for him; all the monsters coming out when no one is around. He surrounds himself with friends and gets high with Kenny nearly every day. He even gets a little buzzed before a shift one day, which is a _mistake._ His mind goes completely absent. He has no idea how Kenny does it.

He feels sort of bad for not replying to Craig, but he just _can’t._

He stares at the gift he bought him for Christmas; some vintage Star Wars Vessels Vehicles Patent Art Poster Prints. They combine Craig’s love for both Star Wars and mechanics. He doesn’t know what he will do with them. He said to himself that he’d return them, but so far, days after Christmas, he hasn’t been able to bring himself to.

Nearly _everything_ reminds him of Craig.

He does his best to distract himself, but as much as he does, he still can’t help but to think of him.

X.

He’s skimming through instagram stories when he notices Tweek has posted one. It’s off a TV — definitely not his — and on display is _Les Miserables,_ with a caption of _getting ready for the spring musical!_

He squints his eyes at it, staring farther longer than necessary until continuing down the plethora of instagram stories. Through his finger tapping, he spots a _very_ similar photo, this time from Bridon Gueermo. It looks like the same TV set up and features _Les Miserables_ on the screen as well. The caption is almost the same as Tweek’s: _Les Mis! (: Can’t wait for the spring musical!_

With a queasy feeling in his stomach, he presses to the next photo. His heart stops when he sees Tweek featured on fucking Bridon Gueermo’s story. His ex-boyfriend holds a bowl of popcorn, and the caption says, _with the star of the winter play, what an honor!_

He doesn’t know how long he stares, analyzing it. Tweek smiles, but it’s _closed;_ hiding his cute, gapped teeth from the world. His hair is in his face, and Craig wants so badly to pass through the virtual wall and feel his soft curls.

He wants so badly to jump into the photograph and strangle Bridon Gueermo.

Everything inside him seizes up. He refuses to believe they are anything more than friends. They _can’_ t be — it hasn’t even been a full _week._ Tweek can _not_ be over him _that_ fast to move onto _Bridon Gueermo._

Still though, Craig feels himself more envious than ever before. He can’t stand the picture of Tweek on Bridon’s story, yet he keeps checking for any others throughout the night. Neither post anymore though.

He goes to bed that night, somehow feeling worse than before, which he didn’t think was possible.

X

Craig is surprised when he receives a text from Kenny.

**KENNY:** hey dude, you wanna hang?

**CRAIG:** wow, you don’t hate me?

**KENNY:** I mean I do, but for other reasons

**CRAIG:** ha ha

**KENNY:** life sucks, and I get that. I don’t like picking sides. I haven’t seen or heard from you all break, and I’m genuinely kind of worried

**CRAIG:** well, Tweek hates me so if you want him to to not hate you, you should stay away from me.

**KENNY:** he doesn’t hate you, dude

**CRAIG:** He totally fucking does but ok.

**KENNY:** nah, man, he loves you, he’s just hurt

**CRAIG:** I saw him with Bridon…

**KENNY:** dude, they’re just friends, trust me

Relief washes over him. He’s never been so grateful for Kenny.

**CRAIG:** Oh... Well, how is he doing?

**KENNY:** maybe you should ask him yourself

**CRAIG:** ha… right. He wouldn’t even respond to my Merry Christmas text.

**KENNY:** to be fair, I don’t think his Christmas was very merry… you’ve met his parents.

**CRAIG:** whatever.

**KENNY:** come over, and maybe we can talk about it some more

**CRAIG:** I’m just really not up to it… but thanks for not hating me… I guess.

**KENNY:** oh I hate u ;) but I always have, nothing will change that

**CRAIG:** Lol, right. U too.

X.

Token invites him over for New Years Eve, but Craig doesn’t want to go. Not only because he does not _feel_ like getting out of bed, but also because Clyde is with Heidi, and Token is with Wendy, and Bebe is with Nichole. He is really not in the mood to be the seventh wheel.Token had texted him the other day about what’s going on with him, and he more or less explained the situation, coming out to him.

His friends seem rather concerned, but he just doesn’t have it in him to make appearances.

So, instead he just waits in his room for midnight to hit; to end his current shitty year, and propel him into the _new_ shitty year.

About one hour before midnight, his father knocks on his door. He can tell because it’s a heavier knock than Tricia’s or his mom’s. It’s a knock he hasn’t heard in awhile.

“Um… come in, I guess.”

His door opens, and just as he thought, it’s his father. He wears a frown and trudges inside. Craig keeps his eyes on his television; some NYE special on screen. The ball has already dropped in New York so he should probably switch the channel to something in the mountain time zone, although there are not many of those.

“Do you mind… muting that, or turning it off?” His father nods to the TV. Craig blows out some air and mutes it. He adjusts his stare onto his father as he takes a seat at the end of his bed. The expression he wears is one he has not seen a long time. It’s soft and _warm,_ almost.

“Craig, I wanted to talk.”

Craig adjusts himself and sits up a little more straight. He furrows his eyebrows inward, “…okay.”

His father sighs and looks to his bedroom door. Craig wonders how much his father wishes to just get up and leave. His dad probably hates talking about his feelings more than he does. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking… and I’ve come to the conclusion that I was wrong to react the way I did,”

If his father didn’t have his attention before, he surely does now. He frowns.

“Just watching you… be _miserable,_ and knowing that I have some involvement with that,” he shakes his head and looks to his lap. “I still don’t understand, but I realized that it was selfish of me before to try _not_ to. I understand that if you try to hide or reject this part of yourself… you’re just going to be miserable your whole life… and I don’t want that for you.”

Craig’s eyes fall to his lap. His frown feels heavy as he stares into his lap. He should feel _better,_ right? Maybe he does… a little, but all that internal shame and self-hatred still kind of weighs on him. He still fucked things up with Tweek.

“I like gay Craig.” He feels his father’s stare protruding through his forehead, causing him to look up and meet him in the eyes. His stomach decides this is weird; twisting awkwardly at the sight. “I love you.”

Craig’s eyebrows shift further together. His tongue feels heavy as he tries to coagulate a response. His father blows out a puff of air before standing up. “I’m proud of you Craig, and I’m sorry that I haven’t shown that enough.”

Craig shifts his eyes to meet him. _Proud_ is definitely something he hasn’t heard from his father, and he sure as hell didn’t expect to hear it for being _gay._ “Uh… thanks.”

His father clears his throat with a small cough before nodding and walking out of his room.

He’s left feeling stunted. He didn’t expect that.

He lets the next hour pass, watching various Snapchat and instagram stories of peers bringing in the new year. Everyone is out with friends, while Craig is alone, and he is alone because of his own faulty actions. When he gets to Jimmy Valmer’s instagram story, he sees Tweek featured in the selfie with Timmy, Jason White, and Kevin Stoley.

Before he really knows what he is doing, he slips his legs off to the side of his bed and makes a call.

He is surprised when he gets an answer; although the receiver forces him to speak first.

“Tweek?”

“Uh, hey… Craig. One minute,” He can hear muffled conversation in the background, and then another round of shuffling noise; the sound of a door shutting and then _silence._ Then, “okay, hi. What’s going on, Craig?”

Craig breathes in, focusing on the solar system poster on his wall. He recalls Tweek one time going on a rant about Pluto no longer being a planet, and the memory gives him a little courage. “I — Um, my dad just… accepted me… I guess?”

He hears a sharp intake of air, “oh, that’s great, I’m really happy for you.”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “it’s… cool,” he swallows. _This is so stupid._ “But… I don’t know. I just _miss_ you, so much.”

“Craig,”

“I just… _God,_ I just wish I handled things differently. I — I just I’ve been regretting it, and then… my dad… and I just…,” he exhales, “it was so _hard_ before, but maybe now… I feel like I’m ready —,”

“Craig, just… stop,” he hears the blonde. “I just — I can’t, okay? I’m happy that your dad’s accepted you and all, and you think it’ll be easier on you now to be _you_ … but I just _can’t…_ What if you change your mind again?”

“I _won’t,”_ Craig fights, squeezing his eyes shut. His voice is strained. The line is silent. “I _promise_ — I just… Tweek, I’m sorry. I am. Please just… I love you. It will be different this time. It’s _different_ now, please. I just… I was going through… _a lot.”_

“I know,” Tweek responds. “I know that, and I’m sorry you had to go through it, I _am,_ but I offered to be there with you through it, and you just _continuously_ blew me off…,” he hears the other male’s hard breath, “and that made me feel like _shit._ I was fine with you not being ready to be public, but… you — you really screwed me over. We had sex, and then you just _left._ That _hurts,_ man.”

He sucks in a breath. “I know, and I’m _sorry.”_

“Maybe you are, but… It’s kind of hard for me to trust you again… I don’t know, Craig. I just _don’t_ know _._ I’m _happy_ that your dad’s come around… I am. That is a huge relief, but… I just… you made me feel so _stupid,_ and I would feel so _stupid_ if I just … let that happen again.”

Craig struggles to swallow as his throat has gone extremely thick. He doesn’t know what else he can say. He figured this was already a loss cause. He fucked everything up and it’s just too late to change that. “Do you think… Do you ever think maybe we could try again?”

There is a long, _aching_ pause before the male on the other end of the line says, “I don’t know… But I should go.”

He doesn’t want the phone call to end. He doesn’t want to _lose_ him. He just wants to hear him talk until he falls asleep; until he is safe from making anymore poor life decisions, but if this is what Tweek wants, he needs to respect it.

“Okay… Well, Happy New Years,”

“Happy New Years.”

So far it’s proven to be pretty shitty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, sorry!


	31. after the storm

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, so i haven’t managed to respond to any of the comments from last chapter (sorry)! I have read them all though; thanks so much! I really appreciate all the suport. I’m gonna have a longer note at the bottom. :)

Usually, Craig is allowed his father’s keys on days of pizza delivery so Craig is shocked when his father randomly offers his keys to him, saying he should go out and have some fun before school starts back up. Craig thinks he feels guilty and is trying to make it up for his homophobia through weird gestures. While this definitely does not erase years of blatant homophobia, Craig takes the keys anyways.

He _really_ needs an escape. He’s tired of staring at the new pair of vans that he bought Tweek. He will probably just give them to him the first day back to school, and then fuck off for the rest of eternity. That’s what it seems Tweek wants. He’s not looking forward to it, and it’s just _more_ reason to get out of South Park.

He grabs his camera and heads to Rocky Mountain National Park. He figures its better than staring at his ceiling, or _phone,_ waiting for a text from Tweek, but only receiving ones from Clyde or Token.

Tweek said _I don’t know_ and while Craig _wants_ to be optimistic about it; he’s pretty certain he just fucked things up completely. As much as he craves to continue troubling him for another chance, he thinks the best thing to do at the moment is to leave him alone.

He takes a variety of shots of nature; from wildflowers, to different types of birds he sees, to the evergreen trees and their bark. With every increase of elevation, the world seems quieter. He feels farther away from his problems; a lot of those problems being problems _he_ created. He captures whatever sparks his eye to the glimmer of the warm sunlight sparkling across the snow, to paw prints of animals left behind, to the sun seeping behind the mountainous horizon.

He thinks a ton why is up here.

He hates himself for other reasons than before. He hates himself for being a _dick._ He’s finally climbed out of the emotional pit he fell into. From the bottom, he didn’t realize how far down he was. Before, it was foggy — everything was blurry and distant, and it wasn’t _his_ life. He isolated himself so far that he became dissociated but now he is back, left to pick up the pieces.

He never thought he would want to win someone back so much; he never thought he would ever want someone so much who rejected him, but he _does,_ and he would do _anything_ to prove that to him. He misses him so much. He doesn’t know if it’s for the better or worse that he’ll see Tweek on Monday. Part of him feels excited to see the blonde; to see his soft, vibrant curls and maybe, if he’s lucky, the dimple on his left cheek when he smiles too hard.

He wants so badly to see him, but he also just _knows_ that upon seeing him, his heart is going to break all over again (not that he’s been able to put it back together).

X.

When he uploads the photos on his laptop later that night, he begins voyaging down the different files on his laptop. He comes across the video clip he took of Tweek from the football game earlier this year. He smiles at the footage, pausing the video to stare at the blonde in his green sweatshirt. He had edited this footage out before taking it back to school, but he couldn’t bring himself to actually _delete_ it.

Just like he can’t delete the selfies they took on his phone within the few week span they were together. He pulls his phone out to look at them. He wishes they took more now. _However,_ Craig does have a couple videos of Tweek from the time they were dating. In one of them, Tweek sits on his couch in his parent’s living room. He takes a sip of coffee, then looks over with a smile and says, _is this a video? Stop it, man._ He hears his own laughter afterward and the video stops. He looks at the next one and it’s from their Denver trip; Tweek watching the dogs at the dog park. He looks so happy; a smile of content across his features. It breaks his heart, but he keeps going through his pictures and videos anyways.

He finds a video of Tweek during rehearsal. He took it to show him how _amazing_ he was. The video after is of Tweek walking to Clyde’s car after that same rehearsal.

Truly, Craig didn’t even realize he had _this_ many videos of Tweek. Craig likes taking videos. He takes them a lot. He even has a few involving Clyde, Token and Jimmy, but Tweek by far, takes the leading roll of his recordings.

As he scrolls through his recent camera roll, his eyebrows furrow together. He recalls taking videos of Tweek prior to their relationship too — before high-school and before he began to royally fuck things up between them.

He goes back on his laptop and clicks through a variety of files.

He indeed has a lot of videos of Tweek, going years back. He never realized how _much_ he recorded him until now, staring at the evidence. Craig used to make these stupid “ _short films”_ that weren’t really short films. They were sort of like an artsy vlog that didn’t involve him, but instead, focused on the things and people around him.

Tweek featured in almost all of them and he _always_ used it as an excuse to record the boy. He cringes at himself now, pulling his hat over his face in embarrassment. Wow, he was a fucking dork, and in love with Tweek Tweak. It was so obvious, and yet, it took him so long to realize and accept.

He continues to scroll through the pictures, further propelling him into eternal dread, but he can’t stop. The farthest the videos go back is third grade, when Craig started hanging out with him after their fight. In the video, Tweek still has bruises on his face from their fight and a giant scab on his temple.

He feels stupid to have not seen it before. He could make a whole fucking three-part series about Tweek Tweak with the amount of footage he has. He’s been holding these feelings for so long that the bottle has broke. He is so _ready_ to shower Tweek with all his love. He just has to find a way to prove it to him.

X.

The first week back is final exams.

Craig is pretty sure he does poorly because his mind is elsewhere (i.e. Tweek). Even though he wants to give him the vans, he waits until the week is over to slither up to his locker with the bag in hand. Upon coming up to his locker, Tweek raises his eyebrows and looks over at him with narrowed, untrusting eyes. The sight breaks his heart. It’s the first time he’s talked to Tweek since the phone conversation. They’ve spotted each other a few times throughout the week, but only exchanged a couple brief looks.

After a strained and awkward greeting, Craig just pushes the bag forward and says, “look, I got you these for Christmas, and you could literally just return them if you want, or burn them, but they are yours.”

Tweek takes the bag and with that, Craig turns around. He cant take that _look_ Tweek gives him any longer.

x.

It’s not until the next week that Tweek responds to the gift.

Under their new schedule, they share two classes — wood-shop and American literature. During wood-shop, Tweek comes over to him as he messes with one of the machines on the side of the classroom and says, “thanks for the vans… they’re nice.”

And with that, the blonde leaves him be with a over-beating heart.

Craig looks at him the rest of the class period, wondering if there is a seed of hope in his _thank you._

_x._

Craig decides there is _definitely_ a seed of hope when at the end of the second week back to school, Tweek comes to his locker at the end of the day with a bag of his own.

“So,” he immediately starts, skipping any greeting, “I got you these for Christmas, and I couldn’t bring myself to return them, so I figured I would just give them to you...”

Craig takes the bag and thanks him, but when he looks up, Tweek is already gone.

At Tweek’s quick departure, he frowns. He pushes his hands through the tissue paper and pulls out Star War Vessel Print Posters. A small smile rises to his lips at the gift, but the pit of sadness in his stomach overshadows it.

He decides in this moment that he _definitely_ needs to win him back.

x.

He’s not sure how he will win him back, but the day after Tweek gives him the gift, Craig slips a note inside his locker that says, _thanks for the posters… and by the way, I haven’t given up on you._

He isn’t sure if Tweek gets the note. He gets no indication that he _does._ In all honestly, he doesn’t _expect_ one. He figures he can look at that as a positive. At least he didn’t receive a note back that said _give up._

For the rest of the week, he brainstorms. Clyde suggests he does a big gesture, but Craig isn’t exactly good with stuff like this. He’s never even experienced real _feelings_ before Tweek. He isn’t some huge love sap.

It doesn’t hit him until he finds himself at his laptop again. After another trip to the mountains, courtesy of his dad’s guilt, he uploads pictures to his laptop. As he does so, he mindlessly looks over the video files of Tweek he had found a couple weeks prior. As his eyes scan over the screen, the idea hits him, and he wonders why he didn’t think of it before.

He spends all night working on it. He only gets two hours of sleep, but he decides it’s well worth it.

x.

He is nervous — so incredibly fucking nervous that he kind of feels sick, but he is sure this (might) work. He _thinks._ Maybe. Whatever. At least after this, he will no longer have to reject any girls. They will finally get the point that he’s not interested.

He decides that no matter what, he is happy with his decision to do it. He wants to be seen for who he is. He is so exhausted of hiding it. He no longer gives any fucks, especially in regards to his _classmates._ He still struggles with his dad, although, he supposes he is _trying._ He tries to just not think about it, because for the life of God, he just doesn’t get why it’s such a _hardship_ on his father to fully accept him.

He supposes the weird, guilt-ridden gestures are nice though. His father even gave him fucking money to get take out for him and Clyde the other night. As much as he wants to tell his father that material possessions won’t make up for years of homophobia, he accepts the gestures. He supposes it is at least a good start.

When he gets to school, he tells one of the freshman to play the video when Nichole makes the cue. He _then_ goes over to Nichole, and asks a favor of her. She smiles and nods when he whispers in her ear to explain what it is. He hasn’t told anyone of his plans, not even Clyde, who noticed his change in mood this morning.

  
As the others gather to start morning announcements, his stomach swirls with nervousness. He doesn’t know how this is going to go. Tweek could completely hate it. He could _not_ hate it, and still not want to be with him. Craig was prepared for anything, but he really hoped it was an outcome he wanted.

x.

Tweek sits in his first period desk, feeling slightly agitated. He hasn’t had enough coffee yet today and his aching headache is a reminder of that. He shuts his eyes during the morning announcements, usually never paying much attention to them anyway.

“And _now,_ we have a special video presentation from Craig Tucker,”

Tweek’s eyes bulge open at this. He sits up in his desk and leans over it, suddenly _very_ interested in whatever is about to come on the screen. This is _unusual,_ as the morning announcements usually only consists of extracurricular activities or any updating school events. It’s unusual for any member of the student body to present a video presentation of sorts, but it’s the _most_ unusual for Craig Tucker, who keeps his head down and avoids the spotlight at all costs.

The video starts with a black background and then text appears, along with the nasally voice of his former boyfriend. His heart begins to race as he reads and listens to the words,

“I’ve always liked taking videos, but I especially liked taking them of one person. I liked taking them of you because I thought you looked the best behind camera,”

_You Make My Dreams Come True_ by Daryl Hall and John Oats begins starts up as the screen comes alive, a video of very _young_ Tweek Tweak featuring on the screen. He feels his cheeks heat up and covers his face. Other classmates look over at him, murmuring and giggling among themselves. Next to him, Kevin Stoley, gives him a huge grin. Tweek just sinks lower in his seat, pulling the collar of his crew neck above his nose as he watches.

He can’t help but laugh when the Tweek on screen holds up his middle finger. Craig has sensored it out with a heart emoji. He can’t help but continue to hold as a smile as he watches the clips change; dozens of time lapses of Tweek just _existing_ and telling Craig to shut off his camera with either verbal threats or knocking it out of his hand.

He watches as the Tweek on screen ages. He watches himself fall in _love_ almost — in one of the videos, he can tell he is staring at Craig. His eyes are wide and lit, a smile holding on his lips. They must be in seventh grade or something. He runs a hand through his curls as he watches. He is so focused on the video that everyone around him fades.

A clip that he didn’t know _Craig_ recorded appears on the screen. It was taken at the Homecoming game earlier this year. He furrows his eyebrows as the music quiets and Craig speaks again,

“While you do look better than anyone else on camera, I realized that the reason I like taking videos of you, so much, is because I love you. I’ve always loved you. It just took me a long time to realize and accept it.”

The music’s volume rises again and videos of Tweek appear one more; this time, _recent_ videos of him. One is him on stage, another is from their trip from Denver, another from his living room; in between the videos, Craig includes various selfies they took over the time they dated. In one of them, Craig kisses his cheek. Lead gathers at the pit of his stomach, his eyes becoming watery from the range of emotions he feels.

The last clip that plays is a clip of Tweek, giving him the same look he _always_ gives him during his recordings. The on-screen Tweek smiles but narrows his eyes on the man behind the camera. The video is probably from the summer before ninth grade.

  
Then, as the song stops, Craig appears. He is in his room, at his desk, and Tweek can spot Stripe’s cage in the background of his room.

“Hi, my name is Craig Tucker, I’m gay, and hopelessly in love with Tweek Tweak, and I approve this message.”

The screen goes black then, and Tweek is left stunned. He slouches back in his seat, and barely notices when someone turns the light back on.

“Okay…,” his teacher says, “well… that was different, but everyone… settle down. We have work to do.”

Tweek didn’t realize the excited chatter of his classmates until now. He barely even noticed the multiple stares on him. He was too focused on _Craig._ He raises his hand and asks to go to the bathroom. While his teacher lets out a small sigh and purses her lips to the side in hesitation, she allows him to go.

However when he leaves the class room, he does not head to the bathroom, but instead nearly _runs_ to the AV club room. He stands outside it as a variety students file out. They all raise their eyebrows at him, smiling and snickering. He ignores them as he waits for the person he wants to see.

The dark-haired male makes his way out of the room and widens his eyes upon seeing the blonde. Tweek’s heart stops once they lock eyes. Craig looks almost _scared_ as he treads closer to Tweek.

“Uh, hey… Aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

Tweek just ignores his _very_ stupid and obvious comment. He sucks in a breath, not breaking eye contact. “So. That was a lot.”

Craig visibly blushes at the statement. He keeps eye contact though, “uh, yeah. Too much?” he questions, scratching the back of his head, his face slightly scrunched up.

“You have a lot of videos of me…” Tweek ignores the question. He feels like his chest is about to explode. No one has ever done anything remotely like this for him before. He doesn’t know how to take it. He doesn’t know how to even _process_ it.

“Yeah… I was in pretty big denial… huh?” The other male smiled nervously, swallowing. “I’m pretty sure I’ve been in love with you since the first time you punched me in the face in third grade,”

The blonde bursts out into a giggle at this. After he breaks the straight line across his face, he knows there is no getting it back. He can no longer contain his smile. “I didn’t realize you were such a masochist,” Tweek hums.

“Well, I do keep fucking up my own happiness,”

Tweek’s amber eyes flicker against hazel; his heart once again palpitating. His eyes begin to water again as he stares into the hazel eyes before him. He feels _so_ much. Craig put him through _so_ much, but he’s never felt this adored by anyone before. He’s never adored someone this much. He spent years loving Craig, and the collection of videos was proof that Craig always felt the same.

“I promise that if you give me another chance, I’ll never let you go again,” Craig says, his voice low and quiet, but holding more emotion than Tweek’s ever heard from him.

Tweek’s heart swells as the boy looks at him with glossy eyes of his own. He looks more drained than usual. He normally has perfect skin without any trace of bags under his eyes. Tweek has always been very jealous of this fact. Today however, and for probably the last month, he’s looked pretty exhausted.

Tweek still thinks he looks perfect though — better than anyone else. His hazel eyes are his favorite pair of eyes in all existence. _Craig_ is his favorite person in all existence. Tweek steps forward and presses a hand to Craig’s cheek. The blonde raises a smile to his lips. Craig leans into his touch and smiles back.

“I love you too,” Tweek whispers before attaching their lips together. Craig promptly responds, tilting his head to the side to make easier access in deepening the kiss. He brings his arms around the blonde’s back, brining him forward and cutting off any distance between their bodies. Their tongues graze against each other, electricity shooting through each of their veins.

Tweek never thought he would be so open to PDA but all he wants right now is the male in front of him, and he doesn’t care that its in the middle of the school hallway. It only makes it better that Craig does not seem to mind either.

When they pull away, hearts beating fast, Tweek realizes they had an audience. He hears applause and looks around to find the AV club, clapping their hands, the audience members including Kenny and Stan.

Stan nudges Kenny in the side and says, “looks like we were right about Craig.”

To which Kenny says, “psh, baby I been know this; they made me keep it a secret.”

“You kept it from me?” Stan pouts.

Tweek and Craig just ignore the rest of the world as they stare into each other’s eyes. The only thing that breaks up the circle is when the AV Club teacher demands everyone get to class. She _does_ however say, “even though you two _are_ very cute,” which makes the couple smile and blush.

Craig walks him back to his classroom, hand in hand, and presses a kiss to his lips before they detach.

Tweek retreats to his desk with a grin glued to his face; walking into to a million questions about his relationship status. He’s too happy to even care about his nosey classmates though. Craig is _his,_ and his _publicly,_ and they are in _love._

_x._

Later that day, Craig drags him to the outside of the janitor’s office and begins to kiss him all over his face. He knows what he is doing, but he thinks its rather funny, so he plays along. When the janitor comes out, he yells at them, but he and Craig just flip him off. The janitor to stomps off in anger, leaving Tweek and Craig giggling into each other.

After a long talk with the principle, about the janitor’s involvement in Craig’s personal life and his rampant homophobia, the janitor is fired.

South Park is no place for homophobes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SO! That’s it. Can you believe it? I can’t.
> 
> Anyways, thanks everyone sooooo much for all the support on this story. I cannot believe it reached 8k hits. You guys are so good to me! Thanks! And a special thanks to jewboykahl & ambercreek95 for their constant help, support, and guidance throughout this :)
> 
> I hope this was a satisfying ending. I know people had mixed opinions, so hopefully it was satisfying to everyone. However, I’m aware that making everyone happy is a near impossible task. :) ANYWAYS! Thanks for coming along this journey with me. Hope to see you guys in the future.


End file.
